#i cut so many corners on this but im resolving this year to just. get things FINISHED

[payasita]

God's Mouthpiece (Echo + Narcissus)

silent protagonists, yknow

#cotl #cult of the lamb #narilamb #not a serious au but an idea i had at the grocery store parking lot that made me haul ass back home #at least one of these lines i remember verbatim from reading a version of the myth in school #doodles #comics #i cut so many corners on this but im resolving this year to just. get things FINISHED #SO TAKE IT

[run-little-hero]

Hey i have a good idea for a prompt: Supervillain captures hero and tortures them for months on end and suddenly gets bored of (torturing) them and decides to order villain to get rid of them. Villain isn't aware that it was hero he was told to kill until he entered the cell where hero was and right as he entered he immediately recognized hero who was filled with bruises,burns,wounds,cuts and dried up blood. Though villain for some reason couldn't force themselves to kill hero and just stands there for who knows how long contemplating on what he should do. Villain doesn't want to hurt hero and was about to try and help them until supervillain suddenly showed up. (Sorry if this is long hehe,im excited to see how you'll write it!)

TW // Abuse, blood, torture

“Just take care of it,” huffs Supervillain. “I don’t care how you do it, simply see to it that the issue is resolved.”

Villain shudders at the piercing apathy in their voice. Of course, he’s been in his position for years now. He doesn’t need to imagine the weight of a knife in his hand, or the sound of it slicing into flesh, martyring some sad sap of a hero. These instances, though few and far between, present Villain with an internal moral debate—a fleeting sense of pity over a guilt-ridden conscious. He grieves his fallen enemies, his almost-acquaintances, the way one might mourn the passing of a friend’s distant relative. Or a childhood classmate in a handful of nearly-forgotten memories.

This is not to say Villain considers himself a bad person. Certainly not compared to the likes of Supervillain, who fleets between candidates for torture like a child choosing their favorite toy for the day. But he’ll carry out the deed regardless, because like the hero tied up in one of Supervillain’s private cells, he’s been dealt his lot. And the only thing he can do is live with it.

“Of course,” he replies. “But are you sure you want to go through with it now? They might have more information than they’re letting-“

“They don’t,” Supervillain cuts in. “And if they do, I’m fed up with trying to figure it out. We’ll catch another one, one that’s easier to break. Now please, carry out my order and break their neck.” They smile, and Villain hears the phantom sound of bones snapping. “I need your cooperation with this, Villain. You’re the only one I trust to be discreet.”

Villain nods. “I understand. I’ll go right now.”

The abandoned cellblock currently functioning as Supervillain’s private prison is in disrepair, to say the least. Peeling paint, rusty bars, and dirt covered floors make it seem more suited to be a haunted attraction. Considering Supervillain’s anal personality, Villain is surprised his boss can stand to frequent the place so often.

An associate at the door leads Villain to a wing marked ‘Solitary.’ “The one you want’s in cell number eight,” Villain recounts the words as his eyes flit between doors. And nearing the end of the hall, he spies his target. He rolls up his sleeves, unlocks the door, and enters.

The first thing Villain can comprehend is the retched smell. It stings his eyes, and the thought pops into his head that he might not need to execute this hero after all—simply dispose of the body. But the second thing he can make out is a shivering figure curled up in a corner of the cell, and when he flips on the lights he sees that the hero is indeed, alive and conscious.

The third thing Villain comprehends is the singular thought that slaying this hero would be mercy. They are malnourished, battered, and bruised in so many places that Villain can hardly tell who they are, if he ever knew them at all. Swollen features distort their face. Dry blood and grime cover every inch of their clothes and skin. They wheeze in pain with each breath. But they have undoubtedly survived the torture. They’ve bested Supervillain—they’ve refused to give in. And to Villain, that is a victory for this poor hero.

He walks closer, kneels down in front of this victim. Slowly, their face rises to meet Villain’s gaze, and in an instant his world is flipped on its axis. There’s recognition, beneath the wounded flesh and bone, Villain knows this hero’s soul. And suddenly, he feels every bruise, burn, gash, and cut that covers Hero’s skin as if they were his own. That minute sense of pity has amplified into a mountainous weight of guilt. He can’t breathe, seeing that Hero can. How could they be here? The one hero he’s fought so many times, who he thought was dead after months of lost contact? The one person Villain ever dared to rely on?

A tear runs down Hero’s cheek. “Villain…” They croak.

He can’t do it. He stands, turns, stops. He has to think. If he carries out the order, how could he assuage the guilt? How could he live with this? He can’t fathom a world. It was difficult enough to come to terms with Hero’s disappearance. After years of a life in the shadows, without so much as a friend to lean on, Villain can’t let Hero slip away. Not again.

He’ll be on the run. There’s no beating Supervillain, he knows that. He turns and looks down into Hero’s glossy eyes. They’re staring up at Villain, waiting for him to say something. And Villain, standing in the center of the filthy, oppressive prison cell, is overcome with the strangest sensation of hope. If Hero has lasted this long, perhaps there is a way to escape. Maybe luck will be on their side, just as it’s led them back to each other in this moment. Was it such a difficult notion to entertain?

Villain kneels beside Hero, taking their hand. “I’m so sorry.”

“Villain.” Their tears continue to fall. “I missed you.”

Connected in so many ways, Villain responds with a sob of his own. “I’ll get you out of here. I promise.”

He embraces Hero in a second, preparing to whisk them away. But just as Villain feels a pair of fragile arms wrap around his neck, he sees Hero’s frightened gaze peering at something behind him.

A cold, creeping shiver runs up his spine. His heart stops when he hears, in a most unmistakable voice: “Now Villain, what was it I told you about cooperation?”

—

snippet #4

#was this too long? #hero x villain #hero x villan #heroes #heroes and villains #heroes x villains #spilled ink #villain x hero #villains #writeblr #writers on tumblr #hero and villain #supervillain #super villain #whump writing #whump prompt #whump community #whumpblr #hero whumpee #supervillain whumper

[septembersghost]

This isn’t a Chuck bashing post cos he’s so interesting, but god how he keeps saying he’s doing these things for his brother’s own good, before he destroys himself, and he ends up contributing to said destruction and it makes me want to gnaw the walls frankly

chuck is...such a complicated antagonist because he is extremely unlikable at basically every point, but i feel a real sense of pity and at times even sympathy for him because he is a legitimately sick man. his sensitivity to electromagnetism may not be "real," but his symptoms and pain are very real to *him*, and we understand they're rooted in some mental break even though we never know the full cause of it. he's awful and exasperating and arrogant and judgmental, and the battle he and jimmy end up locked in is excruciating to see because it's all based on old bitterness and misgivings, mistakes and unfairness - if chuck could only bend a little, if chuck could only accept the good in jimmy and want to foster it instead of crushing him down, if jimmy could only grow a little and follow a more even and decent path, etc.

and we know a secret jimmy doesn't know, will never know, about their mother waking up and asking for him, and we have to live with the knowledge of that despicable pettiness, we have to know how deep chuck's resentment went and how it festered for years before jimmy even had an inkling that his big brother could freeze him out or not want him. and we know a secret chuck never knew, a formative moment for jimmy - wolves and sheep.

chuck is right when he figures out things like the transposition of the numbers, and yet wrong in the cruelty he lashes out with, jimmy is wrong to do what he does and yet convinces himself his reasons are justified. they're a mess. jimmy doesn't have chuck committed, even though frankly it was the option he needed for help and treatment, and he thinks that's for the best because he doesn't want to hurt him or take his dignity from him in that way, and yet he doesn't think dinging his reputation will make him go completely off the rails. chuck convinces himself that shutting jimmy out of hhm, and then even the damning speeches he gives him, are for his own good because he can never, and should never, achieve more than the mail room - and every single one of those moments gets embedded under jimmy's skin like a poison dart. you're not a real lawyer. / a chimp with a machine gun. / you've deceived and ruined this fine young woman. / you're just going to keep hurting people. this is what you do, you hurt people. what's the point of all the sad faces and the gnashing of teeth? if you're not going to change your behavior, and you won't, why not just skip the whole exercise? in the end, you're going to hurt everyone around you. you can't help it. so, stop apologizing and accept it. embrace it. frankly, i'd have more respect for you if you did. / the truth is, you've never mattered all that much to me.

they are tragic in such a grand way that it's almost shakespearean. contrasting brothers who doom one another. it's worse still because it is clear that jimmy loves chuck and admires him greatly, despite his slippery habits and his tendencies to cut corners, and to have someone you love and admire unflinchingly tell you that you're bad and harmful and don't amount to much is ruinous, even if you try your best to compartmentalize it. it's like jimmy internalizes it, becomes it, and disassociates from the grief of it all at once. chuck isn't right, and i don't like the sort of narrow idea that he was, yet what he says becomes a fait accompli because we know where jimmy's road ultimately leads. chuck contributes in so many ways, maybe somewhat subconsciously, to jimmy's destruction, to jimmy not even wanting to BE jimmy anymore. jimmy has agency, it's in his hands and he makes those choices, but the shadow of that damage never goes away. how could it? and it can never be healed or resolved because chuck also destroyed himself, and that immolation traps part of jimmy in ashes too.

i think bcs was brilliant in making that initial arc of its story a familial tragedy, because it explains so much about why the saul mask is devoid of connections. jimmy has so much heart underneath everything, but pieces of it keep getting burned away in the paths he takes, willingly or under duress, and in what/who he loses. saul as an answer to self-loathing. saul as an answer to abandonment.

#I'M SAD #it makes me want to gnaw the walls too we're chomping biting crying together #jimmy mcgill #chuck mcgill #better call saul #anonymous #letterbox #also there was a really good post on here about chuck the other day and i'm going to try and find it for you #if you haven't already seen it

[joontopia]

Oncoming Storm | KSJ

pairing: Human!Seokjin x Mermaid!reader

genre: smut, slight angst,  fluff, basically porn with a dollop of plot

au: fantasy au, strangers to lovers

rating: explicit, nsfw, 18+

word count: 5.6k (WILDLY UNEDITED)

warnings: slight angst, some pining, some mentions of blood, mentions of injuries, sharks, unprotected sex, biting, breast play,  fingering, oral (f. recieving), multiple orgasms, cream pie, subtle mentions of religion

a/n: so here it is! and im so mad at myself because i’m posting it so late. i accidentally took a nap that turned into actual sleep. I changed the plot to this fic so many times, i was happy when i landed on a plot that i liked. please keep in mind that this fic is currently un-beta’d and un-edited. I’m still in the process of moving homes. so once I am done, I will go back and edit this fic. I really hope you enjoy this fic!

part of The Last Splash Collab hosted by @kimtaehyunq​ Maggie thank you so much for letting me join and putting up my shenanigans in our DMs. I love you!

The storm is close. You can feel it in the air. Sense it in the restless calm that has overtaken the ocean water around you. You know what this means, the whispers in the sea breeze only confirming your suspicions with each passing wind as you swim up to your lover’s boat. It’s time to migrate.

You had a feeling this time was coming soon. The last time a migration happened was two years ago. You remember it quite vividly. It was the very day you met the first friendly human you’ve ever come into contact with. The very handsome Kim Seokjin. 

It was at the beginning of the last migration. Your tribe of merpeople had just entered into your new territory, having followed the strong storm current until the flow started to calm. The usual indication that your tribe has reached whatever new home the God of the Sea has called you to. Everything was going fine, the heavy storms had kept the waters clear of any boats to help prevent any humans from witnessing pods of merpeople in the water. It wasn’t until your pod had reached the end of the current tunnel when trouble had struck. 

A group of rogue sharks were there to greet your people. Circling and dividing your clan, trying to weed out the weak swimmers from the strong. Many of your people were able to swim away, the warriors of the group fought off the sharks with no major injuries or casualties, managing to make the attackers flee the area. All but one. In the midst of all the chaos, one of the sharks had successfully rounded up two young mermaids who had gotten separated from the pack, circling them as if playing with them. Feeding off the sense of their fear before striking to kill. It wasn’t until you noticed the dark, hungry eyes of the deadly hunter focused on you that you realized what you had done. The blood from the cut on your arm won it’s attention, allowing the two younglings to scurry away to safety. 

You hadn’t even noticed you had done it. Instincts kicking in, causing you to grab one of the sharp shells on your necklace. Your body moving quickly on its own to create the mark, knowing the blood hungry beast wouldn’t be able to help itself. You turned the opposite way from where the younglings escaped and swam away as fast as you could, the shark following closely behind you. You looked around you, hoping to find a cave or possibly one of your fellow mer-warriors to help you with your escape. You don’t know how far or how long you swam, dodging each attack the shark attempted on you. You could feel your body growing tired, your tail not able to keep you at the same speed as before. You sense the shift in the water, your attacker positioning himself for another strike. You use the last of your strength to dodge once again, barely evading the shark’s bite as a few of his teeth clip your side. Traces of your blood dissipate into the water as you once again start to swim away, the pain of your new injury destroying the rest of your energy. You start to think you’re finally done for until you’re suddenly dragged up and out of the water. The sudden rush of fresh air invading your lungs as you look around you in a panic, gripping at the netted rope that you found yourself ensnared in.

With night time in its full glory in the sky, you try to use the light of the moon to check your surroundings. It’s not until you feel yourself moving around in the air that your eyes finally see the fishing boat your entrapment is attached to. Panic takes over as the predicament of your situation starts to settle in. In the midst of escaping one of your kinds’ greatest threats, you managed to get yourself caught by the next worst thing. Humans. 

You reach for one of the shells on your necklace, yanking it free and trying to make quick work on the ropes holding you captive. You nearly make a hole big enough for you to slip out and back into the water when you feel the net dropping, your body slamming hard on the deck of the boat. You scramble to get yourself free of the net before your captor has a chance to make an appearance. Your tail thrashes around wildly, making you feel like the quite literal fish out of water that you are. You silently pray the thrashing and the sea breeze is enough to quickly dry your scales, allowing your lower body to take on a human form. Your wish goes unanswered, replaced by the grace of the net being freed from around you. You flip to your stomach, adrenaline coursing through you as you try to scoot yourself to the edge of the boat. Your blood pumps so loudly in your ears, deafening you to the heavy footsteps coming up from behind. You’re nearly to the back of the boat when you feel hands clasp your arm, your fight or flight reflex causing you to flip back over, slapping your newest attacker across the face with your tail. Successful knocking them away and on their ass. You go to turn back to make your escape when you hear the voice of your attacker. His choice of words halts you from jumping back into your home.

“Wait! The shark is still there!” He exclaims, pure panic and genuine concern laced in his vocals. You keep your eyes on the water, breathing heavily as you peer into the dark abyss in front of you, trying to see if the shark was still indeed awaiting for your return into it’s hunting ground. Thinking your fate is sealed either way, you consider risking it before once again being interrupted by his voice.

“Please, I’m not going to hurt you. I was trying to help-- Holy hell…” The stranger's words die out as you turn to look at him, his eyes on your body as you follow his gaze down to your dissipating tail. The usual bluish purple of your scales slowly shed from you. The now smooth appendage slowly forms into the shape of human legs, having dried enough to allow the transformation. The remaining scales of your tail cling to your flesh in patches, glinting in the moonlight as you move to curl into yourself and put distance in between you and the strange man before you.

“You’re actually real. Mermaids are actually real,” the man speaks softly, as if to himself. His eyes locked on the fallen scales scattered across the floor. You take in a few deep breaths, watching him carefully as you build up the courage to speak.

“Please…” you gasp. The man’s eyes flicking up to yours, his features softening as he notices the fear in your eyes. “Please just let me go.”

The man scans your body quickly one last time, shock taking over his gaze as he scrambles to his feet, removing the weather jacket from around his shoulders and approaches you slowly. You flinch in fear, the man halting and holding his hands up as he takes a small step back. 

“No, no. It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you. Please, just take this. I don’t want you to get cold.” He slowly hands the jacket in your direction. You eye it carefully before looking back up at his face, trying to find any trace of deceit in his demeanor. You find nothing but softness, allowing yourself to accept his offer, taking the jacket from his hands and wrapping it around you. 

“Thank you,” you mutter, clutching the jacket closer to you as you continue to watch your unexpected savior. 

“Here, let me help. We should get your wounds patched up,” He says to you as he slowly approaches you again, his hand still held out towards you. This time looking to help you to your feet. You cautiously take his hand, allowing him to pull you upright. You let go of him prematurely, not anticipating how shaky your lower body would be. You try to take a step forward, following him to a nearby bench only for your newly formed legs to give way causing you to start to fall forward and straight into the man’s arms. “Woah, easy there. Hold on tight, okay?”

You nod your head meekly, blushing as you hold on to his arm as he walks you to the bench and sits you down. Your hand slides down his arm as you let him go, allowing you to feel the firmness of his muscles as he pulls away. He kneels down beside you, opening a small door under the bench and pulls out a small red case. You watch him as he moves, eyes falling on to the wide expanse of his shoulders as he opens up the case, pulling out various bandages and ointments. He looks back up at you and you quickly look away. Your blush deepening from being caught staring at him. You notice his smirk out of the corner of your eye as he holds out his hand, gesturing towards the injuries on your side. “May I?” he asks you, the gentleness in his tone chipping away at your resolve. You nod once again, moving the jacket just enough to expose your injuries to the man.

He quickly goes to work, silence falling between the two of you as he starts cleaning your wounds. You watch him as he works, admiring the determination in his eyes. You observe his face, tracing the slight dip of his nose and observing the pink plushness of his lips. Finding it cute how he has them slightly parted as he focuses on your scratches. As if he feels you watching him, his eyes flicker up to meet your gaze for only a second before looking back down at his current task and clearing his throat. 

“So what's your uh… Or do you have a name? What can I call you?” He asks you, a blush creeping up on his face as he starts to feel self conscious over his question.

You giggle at the cuteness, knowing this has to be a new social experience for the two of you. This being the first time you’ve ever interacted so closely with a human and, considering his reaction earlier, this would be his first interaction with someone of your kind as well. You clear your throat as well, hoping your shyness has subsided enough for you to be able to speak clearly. 

“I do. It’s Y/N. Thank you for saving me. I would have never expected this type of kindness from a human.” You smile down at him as he chuckles at your words. He places the last of the bandages on your wounds, packing up the small case and placing it back in its spot beneath the bench.

He looks up at you, blessing you with a breathtaking smile that knocks the air from your lungs. The sight of the simple gesture melting away the rest of the protective guard you held up and seeping straight into your heart, wanting nothing more than to stay this close to him. You feel the warmth radiating from his hand that’s resting on your exposed knee, finding comfort in the closeness from this complete stranger. You don’t notice how out of tune with reality you become until you see his lips start to move, the honey sweet baritone of his voice bringing you back to the moment. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Y/N. My name is Seokjin.”

He let you stay on the boat that night, allowing you to take the bed as he slept up on the couch in the cabin. Giving you somewhere safe to stay as you waited for morning, in hopes that it will allow you a safe return into the ocean to reunite with your tribe. You had thought you would never see him again, but fate had a different plan. It was only two short weeks later that you found yourself venturing upon his boat. You had stayed a safe distance away, wondering just how many boats with purple stripes down the side existed on this side of the water. It wasn’t until you saw the enscripted boat name “Epiphany” on the side shortly before the handsome, wide shouldered captain made his appearance. The moment he noticed you approach his vessel, he gave you the warmest smile, helping you onboard and offering you a blanket to cover your transforming body. 

Since that day, the both of you made these little visits a weekly tradition. Spending the whole day learning about each other, swapping stories about each other's worlds. Growing closer and more intimate in your interactions the more time you spend with each other. The hellos and goodbyes were combined with hugs. Casual conversations were enhanced by subtle touches and soft grazes of each other's skin. Then one night during a full moon, the first of which you two were able to enjoy together, Seokjin found the courage to pull you close, asking you if it was okay to give you a kiss. 

You remember being taken back by the softness of his plush lips, how your body melted into his from the tenderness of his touch. It wasn’t long before you began staying the night with Seokjin, sharing his bed while exploring each other’s bodies. You had never been touched by a man before. Had expressed that concern with him only to be comforted with the knowledge that he wouldn’t pressure you to do anything you didn’t want.  

You smile at the memory of your shared nights together, not realizing you had made it to the Epiphany until you hear Seokjin’s voice cutting into your thoughts.

“Arms too tired to pull yourself up?” He teases you as he looks over the side of the boat, smiling as he watches you wading in the water.

You stick your tongue out, mocking his laughter as he reaches for you, helping you onto the deck. “ Ha ha. You’re quite the comedian, Jinnie,” you tease back, savoring each sound of his addictive laugh as it rings through your ears. Oh, how you’re going to miss that laugh. 

The reminder of the oncoming storm brings your mood back down. The sudden shift in your demeanor doesn’t slip past Seokjin. His brows furrow in concern as he watches you, handing you the towel and one of his t-shirts he had waiting for you. You start to pat your scales dry, refusing to look at him as you’re not quite ready to break the news. Much to your dismay, Seokjin was not on the same page as you.

“What’s wrong, love?” His voice addresses you softly. His genuine concern for you wraps you in a warm embrace, causing unwanted tears to begin to pool at your waterline. You still don’t look up at him. Your gaze trained on your shedding scales as you dry off your upper body before pulling his t-shirt over you. As the fabric passes your nostrils, you breathe in deeply, taking in every note of his scent and committing it to your memory. Your heart begins to ache with every breath you take. You finally look up at him once your legs finish transitioning, standing from your spot on the deck. He reaches out to help steady you, a reaction you know he did without even thinking. The ache in your heart deepens as you grab onto his forearms to balance.

You take a deep breath as you prepare yourself for what you’re about to say. “I have to leave, Jin.” 

His features contort in confusion, his hands still on your waist as he questions your words. “So soon? But you just got here,” he responds, the gravity of your statement completely lost on him.

“No,” you say as you shake your head. Tears threaten to spill over as your voice begins to shake. “I have to leave. The storm, Jin. It’s coming.”

Jin continues to look at you in confusion. It takes a full minute before he realizes what you mean, his eyes growing wide with panic indicating to you that he’s caught on.

“Are you sure?” he asks. “It could be just a terrible storm. Just like before.” 

The hopefulness in his voice nearly breaks you. You wished he was right. Wished this was just a false alarm. It was almost a year ago from this day when you thought the storm for the migration was starting. There were only small indicators that the brewing weather was going to be it, but enough indicators that had you convinced it was going to happen. It was also the first night you gave yourself completely to Seokjin, wanting your last night with him to be a memorable one. When you had learned in the following days that the threatening storm had passed, you were ecstatic, wasting no time to race back to Seokjin and into your rightful place beside him. You spent every night with him in his arms ever since. But now the omens of what's to come are back again. And this time they are very much real.

You shake your head at him once again, stepping into him and leaning your head onto his chest as he wraps his arms around you. Holding you tightly as if you were going to disappear right there. “I’m sure of it, Jinnie. The tribe’s elders confirmed it this morning. The storm will be here in three days.”

Silence grows between you two as you stand there holding each other. You have no idea what to say at this moment. No idea what either of you could say, but you just want to hear his voice. Just want to hear it as much as possible before your inevitable departure. As you fail to search for something to say, you feel the vibrations in his chest from him starting to talk and you're grateful that it’s only one of you that's at a loss of words. It’s not until you hear what he asks that you wish the two of you sat in silence just a little longer.

“What if you don’t leave? You can stay with me. Live by the shore, somewhere remote where you’ll be safe.” 

Your tears begin to fall freely as you pull away from him. His arms only loosen around you slightly, giving you just enough space to lean back and look up at him. “Bad things happen to mermaids who get separated from their pack. The loneliness will eat away my soul, changing me into something dangerous. I would no longer be myself.”

“Then I’ll come with you,” Jin states confidently, looking down at you with determination in his eyes. Your tears fall faster as you shake your head again.

“It’s too dangerous, Jin. The storm will kill you. The Gods created this specifically to keep us safe as we travel in masses.”

Jin closes his eyes, his shoulders slumping in defeat as he leans his forehead against yours. His breathing becomes ragged as he continues to hold you closely. “Then stay with me until you need to leave. Only if you can,” he whispers to you, the slight tremble in his tone crushing your heart.

“I can do that,” you respond, leaning up on tiptoes as you place a soft kiss on his plush lips.

The two of you spend the rest of your day talking, Jin asking every possible question he can think of, trying to find a way to decipher where this storm may take you. You answer him the best you can with the limited information that you have. Tribal Elders have tried their best to determine a pattern in the way your new homes were chosen, but never find anything concrete. It is a decision truly left up to the Gods. 

As night falls upon you, you feel the exhaustion come over you. Slowly leading Seokjin to the bed, you curl up into him the moment you both settle onto the mattress, clinging on to him with all your might. Not wanting to part from him until you absolutely have to. He places soft kisses on your head as he holds you just as close, humming to you in his sweet voice as he starts to rock the two of you to sleep.

Not wanting to sleep just yet, you readjust yourself slightly, allowing yourself enough space to move closer to Jin’s lips, kissing them as soon as you reach them. He kisses you back and you waste no time to deepen the connection, licking his bottom lip with your tongue as a wordless request to enter. He reciprocates, the both of you parting your lips, your appendages dancing around each other in a fiery passion. 

You run your hand down his bare body, slowly making your way to the hem of his pants. Seokjin stops you, grabbing your hand into his own.

“We don’t have to do this,” Jin whispers to you, trailing kisses along your face. “Being here with you is enough.”

“I want to, Jin. Please, make love to me.” Your voice shakes in your response, your lips trembling from the sob building in your chest. Jin stops it with his own lips, capturing yours into another deep kiss. 

Releasing your hand, Jin helps you undress himself before pulling your lone shirt from over your body. He lays you back against the bed, placing more soft kisses across your face before trailing his lips down your body. He stops at your breast, taking a moment to circle your pert nipples with his tongue. He gives each a small suck, the sensation causing you to arch your back, shoving your breast further into his face. Before releasing the last bud, Jin gives it a soft nibble, chuckling at the light gasp that escapes from you before continuing to lower himself down your body.

As he makes it to your core, he places your legs on his shoulders, rubbing your thighs as he looks up at you. “I’ll take care of you, my love. I’ll make sure you never forget tonight,” he coos at you as he places two fingers on your lips, forming a V with them to spread you apart. You feel him lick a strip right up your center. A delicious shiver crawls up your spine at the satisfying feeling. He gives you another lick, making a point to flick his tongue against your clit once he reaches the top. You feel your arousal leaking from your heat as Jin repeats his movements. You let out a groan with each stroke, your legs beginning to shake on top of his shoulders from the subtle teasing. 

You feel him gather your wetness on two fingers, slowly slipping both inside of you at once. You arch your back again at the pressure, trying your best not to squirm with each pump of his hands. Jin holds you down by the waist with his other hand to keep you in place as he picks up his speed, scissoring his fingers every few pumps to spread you apart. The moment you feel your walls begin to quiver, the pressure against them growing from the third finger Seokjin adds into your hole. He begins to move even faster, adding a curl to his fingers with each passing stroke. It’s not long before you feel a knot form inside of you, your toes curling at pleasure coursing through your body. You quickly feel yourself approaching the edge of your orgasm, the growing volume of your moans giving Jin a good indication of how close you really are. You think you hit a stall in your pleasure when Jin surprises you, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking hard. It’s not until he gives your swollen nub a quick flick with his tongue that the knot releases, your body shaking as you cum around his fingers. 

Jin continues to finger you through your orgasm, slowing his speed as he helps ease you down. The euphoric feeling takes over your body, too busy riding the high to notice Jin removing himself from your core. You’re barely down from your high when you feel Seokjin hover above you, slowly lining himself up to your pulsing entrance. He rubs the head of his cock around your slick hole, gathering us as much of your juices as he watches you, waiting to see if you’re okay with what’s to come next. 

“Do you want to keep going, my love?” he asks you so sweetly. The tenderness in his tone sings to your heart, the need for him growing with each passing moment.

“Yes, Jinnie. Please. Need you,” You whimper as you slowly push down onto him, your body begging to feel him where you want him the most. 

“I’m all yours, darling,” he assures you, pushing into you at the same time. 

You both groan in unison at the sensation. Jin slowly pumps in and out of you, sinking into you deeper with each motion as he patiently waits for your walls to adjust to him. As he buries himself inside of you, he watches your face for any signs of pain only to be met with your features contorting in pleasure. He pauses his movements, waiting for you to give him a sign that you're ready to continue. You try to answer him by grinding down your hips, only resorting to a verbal response once you notice he didn’t pick up on the action.

“Move, Jinnie. Please,” you whine as you wrap your hands around his shoulders, bringing him into you for a kiss. Jin starts his pace off slow, matching it with the speed of your shared kiss. Your walls continue to pulse around him with each slow drag, the tip of his length hitting that small bundle of nerves deep inside of you every time he buries himself to the hilt. You shamelessly whine for more, Jin wasting no time to answer the call. He speeds up his pace, pumping inside of you relentlessly. The familiar knot grows inside you quickly once again as each thrust pushes you closer to another release. You can sense Jin’s release coming closer as well by the way his thrusts become shorter and sloppier. He breaks your lips apart, leaning his forehead against yours as you both pant in pleasure.

“Cum with me, darling,” he groans as he moves one of his hands in between your bodies, placing his thumb on your swollen clit and rubbing it in circles. The added sensation is enough to send you back over the edge, your walls clamping down on Jin’s shaft with each pulse of your release as you call out his name. His own release overcomes him as he slams inside of you, filling you with his warm seed as he joins you, groaning out your name. He braces his arms beside your head, trying his best to keep himself from crushing you under his body weight, leaning down to capture your lips in another kiss.

The next two days were spent exactly like this. The two of you never leaving the safety of the cabin, pretending like the outside world no longer existed. It was just the two of you in this bed, sharing the love you have for each other in every way possible.

By the dawn of the third day, the slight rocking of the boat from the restless waves wakes you, warning you that the migrating storm has begun. Jin stirs beside you, feeling your movements as you start to climb out of the bed. He sits up next to you, grabbing your arm before you are able to fully climb off the mattress and pulls you into him, hugging you to his body as he whispers into your ear, “Please, not yet. Just give me a few more minutes.”

You don’t argue or try to move. Knowing good and well you’d regret not taking these last few minutes when you have the chance. You hold each other in silence for just a few more minutes before Jin cups your chin gently, angling your face to kiss you deeply. You return it, the two of you pouring every once of love you have for each other into the kiss. After another moment, you force yourself to pull away, standing from the bed as you face the man before you. The boat now rocking more heavily as the winds begin to pick up.

“You have to leave now, Jin. You’re running out of time before it becomes unsafe.” 

He slowly nods his head as he begins to move, quickly dressing himself as soon as he gets up from the bed. You reach out your hand, watching as he takes it willingly, interlocking your fingers together as he starts to pull you towards the stairs leading to the deck. You walk in silence to the back of the boat, not finding the courage to release his hand, silently wishing to the Gods that you didn't have to leave.

You turn to him, looking up at him as he smiles sadly down at you. “Please don’t forget me,” you whisper softly, tears once again falling down your cheeks.

Jin reaches up with his free hand, wiping away the droplets as his own tears begin to streak his face. “I’ll never forget you. We’ll see each other again. This is not how we end.” 

The confidence in his tone stabs at your heart. Filling you with a hopefulness that you know will only crush you in the end. “How are you so sure?” you croak as your tears fall harder. “The world is big, and I have no idea where I’ll go and when.”

“The sea brought us together before, it will help us find each other again.” Jin leans down to kiss you one last time, as if to seal his uncertain promise. After a moment, he backs away, releasing your held hands at the same time. “Now go, before it's too late. I will find you. I promise. I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, Seokjin.” 

You give each other one last look before you turn around. You take a deep breath before diving into the water, the scales of your tail forming quickly from the moisture. You swim yourself a ways towards the direction of your tribe, wanting to put as much distance between yourself and the man you love before resurfacing. Fearing that your resolve would not be strong enough to keep you from returning back to him. Once you feel like you made it far enough, you swim towards the surface, turning around immediately as you break out of the water. Your heart rips into tiny pieces as you watch the image of the Epiphany disappearing into the distance.

It’s been five months now in your new home. The beauty of the ocean and surrounding islands are just as captivating as all your previous homes, but something is keeping you from being able to enjoy your new slice of paradise. Something that you miss dearly every single day since you migrated. You feel the need to clear your mind, no longer wanting to dwell in your own sadness. You venture out into your new territory, swimming out further than you have before. You’re not sure why you do it, wandering this far out from the safety of your tribe being a completely reckless choice to make. Your only reasoning being that you’re just allowing the sea to take you wear you need to go, trusting in the Water Gods to keep you safe as you free float along the surface of the water. You happen upon a small island cove, hiding behind the tall rocks protruding from the water to provide you shelter from the heat of the sun. You close your eyes, losing yourself in the ambience of the ocean as the subtle song of waves breaking starts to lull you into a dream.

Your mind wanders to your lost love, your heart aching for him as you imagine what he could be doing at this very moment. You picture him on his boat, leaning over the edge with a fishing pole in hand. The image in your mind being drawn from pieces of your memories. The vision feels so real, so detailed in your mind, you feel like you can practically hear the soft rumble of his boat engines. 

Suddenly, you feel a displaced vibration in the water, the very rumbles you were just imagining now sounding a lot louder and much closer than your distant memory. You lean up from your free float, looking around you for whatever may be causing the disruption to your day dreaming. Peering out into the horizon, you faintly see a small vessel approach you. You quickly duck behind the nearest rock, hoping whoever is approaching hasn’t noticed you. You start to slowly sink under the surface, preparing yourself to make your escape when a sudden pull in your heart begs you to stop.

You peer out from your cover, watching the small boat carefully as it moves closer. The boat turns ever so slightly, allowing the purple stripes along the side to become visible. Your eyes grow large, a wide smile spreading across your face as you jump from around the secrecy of the rock and swim closer to the approaching vessel, the silhouette of it’s wide shouldered captain becoming more visible with each passing stroke.

#bangtaninn #bangtansorciere #bangtanarmynet #kwritersworldnet #btswritingcafe #hyunglinenetwork #bts smut #seokjin smut #bts fanfic

[llamakenma]

a ‘i miss you’ fanfic

request:  can I request a hinata angst again? Where he walks in on his s/o and kags in a weird position so hinata thinks that his s/o was cheating even tho in reality it was a huge misunderstanding and hinata says so many mean things he doesn’t mean to kags and his s/o and people end up finding out and they bully y/n so y/n moves away to uhh any other school and then yams explains that y/n never cheated and now hinata is like conflicted and wants to make it right buts it’s too late and he can’t find her or her new school

--------------------------------------

note: hi @shoyosbitchh!!! it’s totally fine to request again and thank you for requesting!!! i had a fun time writing this and I hope you will have a fun time reading this! stay safe and take care!! p.s i really loved the picture by the way! and im so sorry for the delay TT .

summary: where y/n leaves

--------------------------------------

‘sho.. it’s not what it looks like.’

you pushed off kageyama as fast as you could, pulling his arms off your side , running towards the person who you hoped was the last that could've seen this. you could tell what he was thinking and you prayed that he would believe what you had to say. it was not what he thought it was. and it was definitely not something you would even try out.

‘sho... please, it’s not what you think it is. hear me out...’

you were desperate. this shouldn’t be something that is going to end your relationship of 3 years, no, it shouldn’t be over some misunderstanding and you were willing to make him understand. you were willing to tell him what had actually happened and resolve all of this without tears. 

you reacted to the flinch he gave, as you tried to reach out to him, attempting to make him listen to what you had to say. or you tried to. before you could even comprehend, he had already yelled a string of words you wish you never heard- especially not from him. 

you could not believe the words he had actually muttered. no you couldn’t. it took a couple of pinches and reality kicking you in the gut to remind you that he was not the same person you loved. the hinata standing in front of you was a complete stranger to the person you knew- at least you thought you did, or you hoped you did. no, the person that stood in front of you had a murderous glint in his eyes, and he looked ready to rip you apart at any moment. 

‘go on, where’s your explanation. shouldn’t you be spilling lies after lies instead of standing there like an innocent little girl.’

you dared not to speak. you dared not to even say a word. the same look he maintained in his eyes was enough to make you freeze in your spot and forget all that had happened. you knew you were desperate yet... yet, the fact that he doubted you so much. the fact that he refused to even hear you out- hear what you had to say- made you reconsider actually explaining everything to him. it was not like he was going to believe what you had to say. it was not like he was going to comfort you and say he’s sorry. to say you were disappointed at how much he lied to have faith in you, how much he poured sweet words of trusting you, you knew it was only a cut above to not even utter a word about the real thing.

‘yes shoyo. what you saw was real.’.

---

‘did you hear? they cheated on hinata?’

‘i know right. how could they do that? hinata’s such an angel’

‘they are such a slut, shoyo’s better of without them’

it had been a good week since you had the fight with hinata and none of you had made the effort to even talk to each other- you simply had no reason to and you were sure he didn’t too.

was the week miserable? very. apart from the fact that you no longer had friends apart from kageyama, every insult thrown at you without them actually knowing what had happened was annoying. you knew you shouldn’t let them get to you, but deep down you were taking every word personally- considering on if you were actually the one in the wrong- were you a slut just like they had mentioned? were you losing hinata over our fault?

every word haunted you. it kept you up every night. it was this cycle of insomnia and failing grades that your family had took notice of- you were not fine at all. you had bags of darkness under you eyes, and your hair was never kept anymore. you started shutting yourself out- always staying in your room and not wanting to communicate had made your parents shiver in worry. they had no idea what had happened to you and they could only hope the news they could offer wouldn’t break you even more.

‘we’re moving (y/n).’

---

it had been a month since you and shoyo had a fight, and three weeks since he could not spot even a speck of you in any corner of school, in any corner of Miyagi. he knew he shouldn’t be worrying about you- especially not when you no longer thought about him, not when you no longer had a place for him. yet, he knew that he still longed from you- from every corner of his soul, and every part of his mind- he knew that all those nights he stayed up wishing he had at least hugged you that day, that at least he could’ve heard your voice even if it means another backlash. 

he was turning into a worrywart and his performance had levelled down- as he started skipping practice just to visit the places you used to go with him, wondering if you would be at least at one of those places, waiting for him with the eye- blinding smile on your face and call out for him. yet, you weren’t there, you weren’t in any of the places, he could even feel the presence he loved fading away- out of his reach. 

he couldn’t help anymore, he had to ask someone-anyone- at where you were at, where you had ran off to, where you had disappeared to. you had vanished into thin air in front of him, and he knew he could stand not holding you, but he could not stand not looking at you. he had not seen you and every part of him was itching- he was dying to even take a glance at you.

‘you didn’t know? she moved away hinata.’ 

‘what?’

yamaguchi was one of the people who knew what actually happened, he was one of the people that made an effort to reach out to you and demand an explanation for what had actually happened. he had always believed your relationship with hinata was one of those that would never end, especially not with the way you had smile at each other or the way you look at each other like there was nothing else in the world. he loved how you and hinata always managed to get cooped up in a world of your own when you were together- nothing else mattered to you. he would be a fool not to see how happy you were with him and how miserable you were without. anyone would be a fool not to see it and he could only conclude that everyone was indeed a fool. 

hinata shoyo was a fool. he was a fool to not make effort to listen to you. he was a fool to assume everything was what he believed to be. he was a fool to take you for granted and let you go. he thought you would be there- at least smiling in the hands of someone else. he thought you would be at least having the time of your life with kageyama who had tried not to hate for nothing. what was he thinking. 

he wanted to see you, to hug you and say that he was sorry- yet he did not even know where you were. he was reaching out to you just to get shut off, this was his fault he knew, yet was he really too late.

‘the number you have dialed is unavailable right now. please leave a message after the beep.’

#hinata shoyou #hinata shoyo x reader #hinata shoyou x reader #hinata shoyo #kageyama tobio #hinata x reader #hinata x you #hinata x y/n #hinata angst #kageyama angst #yamaguchi tadashi #yamaguchi #hinata imagine #hinata scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu #haikyuu angst #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #angst #kageyama tobio x reader #kageyama x reader #kageyama imagines #kageyama scenarios

[joontier]

mercedes midnight runs | drabble 

synopsis: ur thirsting over jk driving you around in a mercedes

pairings: jungkook x reader

rating: R

genre: smut, angst | warnings: pwp basically (the thirst is real and unquenchable) with lidol angst ; swearing ; degradation ; car sex (pls dont do this while driving fjlaksas)

word count: 2.1k

g/n: this is the first installment for my ‘between the lines’ collection! ackkk ive been wanting to do this for so long because ive always thirsted over the boys driving and imagining jk driving his mercedes around seoul is just,,,,, eye ---- btw, this is heavily unedited nhnghgnhgn i just had to share the thirst with yall real quick 

between the lines navi. |  navi. | m.list

You’ve already planned out a quiet night to yourself tonight to rest and get your mind off of things, but all of a sudden, just as you were about to settle in bed, Jungkook sends you a text, telling you to get ready in half an hour because he’s going to pick you up and take you out somewhere. 

It isn't new news anymore that he’s texting you at this hour because he’s only permitted to go out after his schedules, which usually also end late at night. Superstar problems, can’t relate. 

Well, that and because your relationship with him warrants these types of late night meet-ups. It’s that type of arrangement you’d never thought you’d agree to, but eventually, learned to cope with. Your phone pings - a new message.

[🕺] 12:45AM

im out front

When you exit your apartment, you see an unfamiliar silver car parked in front of the building, you back up the stairs, wary of who might be inside the mysterious vehicle. The window rolls down halfway, and you see Jungkook takes a peek through the small space. 

Going back down the steps, you quickly climb inside the vehicle. “New car?” 

“Yeah, you like it?” 

You hum in agreement, tracing a hand along the sleek design of the dashboard. “It’s very...you,” you remark, in awe at how this new Benz fits Jungkook so well. “C’mere,” Jungkook tugs at your elbow, closing the distance between the two of you. “Fuck, you don’t know how much I missed you.” He presses his lightly chapped lips against yours, nipping gently at your bottom lip. Abruptly, you pull away, worried. 

“Kook...what if someone sees?” 

“I got the windows tinted. I got this car for us.” His words resonate throughout the car, and you're afraid he might hear your heart thudding strongly in your chest. You choose to ignore the implications of his words, focusing on his presence and not your treacherous thoughts. 

You give him a chaste kiss on his cheek in reply, sending a smile in his direction. You hope he doesn't see your real emotions swimming in your eyes. “Where are we escaping off to tonight?”  Internally cringing at your careless choice of words, you take off your hoodie and place it at the backseat, along with your purse, all the while giving him a generous display of your cleavage as a distraction.

Jungkook’s tongue darts out to moisten his lips. “I’m having second thoughts now, if we should really leave or not,” he says, unabashedly staring at your chest, eyeing your nipples, pert against the fabric of your low-cut top. “No bra?” 

“You told me you’d be here in twenty minutes, so I had to hurry….” 

“Wearing a bra takes you twenty minutes now?” Jungkook snorts, shaking his head at your lame excuse. 

“Yup, especially when all I could think about is having you take them off. So be grateful, because I’m doing you a favor.” You give him a wink, giggling when he huffs and starts the car. You’ve outwitted him once more. Silently, deep within the recesses of your brain, you wish you had the same amount of control you had over your words with your heart, especially when you’re around Jungkook. 

Connecting your phone to the car’s music player via bluetooth, you scroll through your recents and pick on your favorite playlist when you’re with Jungkook. ‘Sexy Can I’ by Ray J and Yung Berg comes first on shuffle. 

“That sounds like a very promising playlist.” 

Your conversation slowly lulls into silence, the two of you seated there quietly as you feel the enhanced bass reverberate throughout the new car. Leaning against the headrest, you glimpse at the man beside you, studying his features. 

Sometimes you find it funny how never in a million years did you even dream of being this close to the Euphoria crooner. If it wasn’t for your cousin Eunkyung - an idol who debuted the same year as Jungkook did, who’s likewise a very good friend of the latter, then you don't think you would even come close to breathing the same air as the global sensation beside you. 

Judging by the movement of Jungkook’s lips, you reckon he’s been speaking to you for the last five minutes, but you definitely have not processed a single word from him, for all you care. You couldn't blame yourself though, and Jungkook is certainly the one who is to take responsibility for your momentary preoccupation.

“You okay babe?” 

“Mhmmhm” 

If you were going to be completely honest, you were far from okay. Besides the many thoughts swirling inside your head, your trusty menstrual cycle tracker app is telling you that you’re bound to welcome your monthly visitor in a week - which means you’re PMSing - which further means you’re only in one certain state of mind - you’re insatiably horny. 

Unfortunately for you, Jungkook is absolutely no help at all. Not when he constantly looks like sex personified - muscular thighs, veiny arms, the whole package. Plus, there’s something about Jungkook behind the wheel that’s ultimately driving you crazy. 

A major part of it is your hormones for sure, but then again, even your hormones are thirsting over Jungkook driving, veiny forearms on display as he grips the wheel, or the way he backs up with only one hand on the steering wheel, or the way he sometimes keep a hand on your thigh as he drives. The formula is clear: Jeon Jungkook will be the cause of your insanity.

Jungkook pulls up the sleeves of his Carhartt sweater, revealing his nearing full-sleeve-tattooed right arm. The sight instantly makes you water, or wetter. Whichever the case may be. 

You hadn’t seen him in a week, busy working on his mixtape, amongst other stuff. And you miss him terribly, sex with him included. As desperate and slutty that sounds, Jungkook is that type of person that leaves you wanting, yearning for more. 

“What’s going on then?” 

“If this is about Eunkyung…you know we already talked about that…”

“I don’t wanna talk about that, Jungkook.” 

“What’s wrong then?” 

You don’t answer, just silently watching the muscles on his forearm ripple as he pulls on the hand brake when you get to an intersection. You gulp, looking away as you push your thighs together, hoping that somehow the friction will help the desire pooling between your legs. The action doesn't go unnoticed by Jungkook, whose eyes instantly  darken, now all too aware of your state. 

“Tell me what’s wrong baby girl.” 

Your resolve nearly breaks at the pet name, looking out the window to avoid his gaze. The light turns green again, and as he continues to drive, he rests a hand on your exposed thigh, strategically placing it just in the middle, the action gentle, yet enough to add fuel to your frustration. 

His tattooed fingers gingerly trace patterns on your bare thigh. Fuck Jungkook and his thing for skirts. You weren't one to complain about his sexual fantasies though, not when wearing the skirts he buys for you gets you a good fucking afterwards. 

You stay quiet in your seat, not giving the satisfaction that Jungkook gets knowing that he’s getting you all riled up. Two can play at this game. 

Gingerly, you place a hand on top of his, gently guiding his hand north towards your core. The man driving beside you lets out a cough, sitting up straighter. Keeping his hand sliding up until he’s fully cupping your core, Jungkook chokes on thin air as he realizes you’re not wearing panties either. 

“Let me guess, wearing underwear is too mainstream?” 

Shrugging, you spread your legs wider, guiding his fingers to slide against your already glistening folds. A shot of electricity runs through your spine. “Fuck, baby girl, you’ll be the death of me,” Jungkook growls, taking a sharp intake of breath as he teases you, shallowly dipping a digit through your wet cunt. 

“You’re fucking soaked. You seem to enjoy the thought, princess. Christening my car seats like the slut that you are?” He drawls, this time fully pushing a finger in as you get to another stoplight. 

“Jungkook, don’t tease me like that baby.” Biting your lip to stop the moan that’s threatening to spill, your own hand reaches out to grab at Jungkook crotch. He hisses at the sensation. You smirk to yourself. Seems like you’re not the only one who’s greatly affected. 

Encouraged by Jungkook’s reaction, you slip a hand through the waistband of his sweats, taking hold of his already hard cock. “And you’re surprised I don’t wear underwear? Bit rich coming from you now isn’t it?” 

“Better watch your mouth and stop teasing me, baby girl. You might just get punished for that.” 

“And what if I want to get punished?”

Jungkook huffs, pulling out his finger as the light turns orange. He brings his slick-covered finger to your lips, “Suck,” he orders. You oblige, sucking on his slender digit and swirling a tongue around it. 

“You’re in for a fucking treat, naughty girl.” 

It’s green again. With a sigh, Jungkook gets back to driving, this time religiously looking for a discreet place to stop over so he can fuck you properly. He finally finds a filling station, now driving with newly found urgency. 

He parks in one secluded corner of the station, with just a singular parking space separating you from a parked truck, the driver snoring away happily. 

The tension is thick in the air, inevitably making you feel hot even with the air conditioning on full blast. With no words needed to get the message across, you both unbuckle your seatbelts hastily, finding each other in a heated kiss shortly after. 

Making another grab at Jungkook’s dick - outlining against the confines of his Puma sweats, you urge him to pull them down to his thighs so you can have a taste of your alleged ‘treat’. Likewise, he orders you to lift your skirt up, giving him easier access to have you writing on his fingers alone. 

Scooting closer, you bend over the center console, taking Jungkook’s length in your hands. You place a tentative kiss on the tip before diving in, taking his cock inside your mouth. Jungkook lets out a guttural groan at the sensation, taking your hair into his hands, forming a makeshift ponytail on your head. 

“You’re so fucking hot, you know that right?” His head throws back as you take him to the hilt, the tip hitting the back of your throat. At his compliment, you swallow and as you watch Jungkook visibly shudder, you give yourself a mental pat on the back. 

As you continue to bob up and down Jungkook’s length, your hand travels between your legs, fingers easily finding your nether bud. With Jungkook starting to buck his hips upwards, helping you with your task, you quicken the pace of the fingers toying with your clit. You’re so close, but you’re doubtful you’ll even get to orgasm, considering your perched precariously over the console - definitely an uncomfortable position for you to orgasm in. 

Jungkook senses your discomfort and tells you to sit down, and you’ll both do this together. As soon as you get seated, you scoot closer to the middle, when Jungkook’s hand extends to return its attention to your dripping cunt. You give Jungkook’s erection stands tall, likewise calling for attention. Heeding to its silent call, you wrap your fingers around his shaft, stroking his length languidly. 

For a full minute, you both stay like that, trying to get each other to orgasm. Jungkook’s breathing gets labored by the second - the tell-tale signs he’s getting close. As your hand momentarily leaves his dick to massage his balls, his phone blares, startling you both out of your wits. 

Letting out an annoyed huff, he grabs the phone and switches mute button down then thrusting the device somewhere on the dashboard. Pretending as if nothing happened, you continue your handjob until Jungkook can’t take it any longer, pulling you up from your seat and telling you to come and sit on his lap. 

As soon as Jungkook pushes his seat back, you crawl over to his side, unceremoniously sitting on his lap, gyrating your hips as you slide your wet folds against the muscular expanse  of his thigh. You’re almost there, Jungkook taking your breasts in his hands for more stimulation - that is until his phone vibrates loudly against the surface of the dashboard. 

“You should probably get that,” you pull away, retreating to your seat: cockblocked for the second time. You check the dashboard for his phone, and get a glimpse of the caller’s ID on his screen. Eunkyung. 

You place the device into Jungkook’s hands yourself. 

“It’s your girlfriend calling.”

© hhyungz 2020. All rights reserved.

#bts smut #bangtanhq #btsguild #ficswithluv #btswritingcafe #btsgoldnet #btsghostie #ksmutclub #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #bts drabbles

[spinster-sisters]

Sunflower. LTY

Warnings: Face fucking mostly, a toxic as fuck relationship, swearing

A/N: THIS RELATIONSHIP IS TOXIC AF SO PLEASE DON’T THINK IM SAYING THIS IS OK OR THAT IM ROMANTISIZING THIS

also, guess which song this is based on lol

This is gonna b like a 3 part mini series so stay tuned

THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY OLD BLOG

You don’t know how the fuck you got here, standing outside the looming apartment building. It was going to rain soon, you could tell because not a star was visible in the night sky, covered by clouds. Distant thunder rumbled in the air. You told yourself never again, yet here you were.

It started almost a year ago,

You meet Taeyong in at a frat party. You hadn’t spoken much, both of you too drunk to care. It didn’t take long for you to take him home.

When you woke the next morning, your bed was empty, no note, no text, nothing. At the time you didn’t care, it was just a one night stand right?

Then, not even a week later it happened again, this time you were both completely sober, having spoken for almost an hour before, only this time you didn’t even make it out of the party before you found a closet for a quick fuck. Once again, total static after. After the fourth time, the man ghosted you, you told yourself no more. You had become somewhat invested in this man, each time believing you might have a future, only for him to disappear the next day. So you promised your self that it wouldn’t happen again.

It was only 2 weeks before the man had once again lured you into his bed. You didn’t mean to fall in love, you didn’t. You tried fucking around, just as he did. You tried blind dates and parties, and even binge drinking to try and keep your mind away from Taeyong. Yet every time, you would scramble to meet him, anytime, any place he desired. You were at his beck and call.

It got to the point were others knew not to even bother, you were Taeyong’s. No matter how much you flirted, how hot you looked, how desperate they were, no one dared to touch what Taeyong had successfully claimed. Even if he didn’t seem to need you.

He continued to sleep around as he pleased, going days without even texting you, then calling you at 2 am to come for a quick fuck. And every time you came running.

It was clear to everyone that to you, he was everything. But to him, you were nothing.

This reality hit you especially hard 3 weeks ago. He had been out with a girl, but she got to piss drunk before he could get his dick wet. And instead of jerking off he called you. You were there in 12 minutes. Though your time was cut short when he got a phone call, it was the girl from earlier, sobered up and ready for a good time.

He left before you had even got your clothes on.

That hit you hard. For 3 weeks you ignored his calls, for 3 weeks you avoided him at parties, for 3 weeks you were strong.  

Yet here you were, standing outside his apartment. The rain had just begun to fall. You were broken, you missed him, you wanted to see him, talk to him, feel him. He was like a drug or a god, in your eyes. You craved his attention, reveling in the few moments you had it. Those moments gave you a better high than any recreational substance ever could.

Which is why you are here, you are an addict going through withdrawals. And you needed your fix.

You walked up to the steps to the heavy metal door, and pressed the button next to his name, buzzing up to his apartment. You stood silent for a moment, wondering if he was even going to answer, it was nearly midnight.

“Hello?” Taeyong’s voice sounded over the intercom. Your heart cried out at the sound. It was pathetic really. You breath soon stopped though, you had no clue what to say. There was always a chance he would simply turn you away. You finally reached out a shaky finger, pressing down the button once again. A low buzzing sound told you he could hear you.

You were still at a loss for words. So you only squeaked out,

“Tae?”

Before releasing the button.

This seemed to be enough though, because soon a high pitch buzz rang out, signaling that the door was open. You heaved open the heavy metal door, before walking up the many flights of stairs to reach his apartment.

You stood outside his door for a minute, contemplating leaving. You had barely had the time to consider it before the door swung open.

And there he stood, in all his glory. A loss barely their white t hung off his slim frame, grey sweat pants loosely tied around his waist. The sight of him was enough to make your mouth run dry, you were practically gasping for water. You quickly swallowed in an attempt to fix the sensation, your heart racing for him.

He lifted the corner of his mouth into a slight smirk.

“Almost though you forgot which one it was,” He spoke, his voice deep and smooth enough to bring you to your knees. But in truth, he was almost mocking you with that statement. He knew as well as you did there was no way you could forget the way to him. You suppose that’s the reason your friends begged you to let him go, to ditch him completely. Because he knew how crazy you were for him, he knew you would come when he called, he knew the hold he had over you.

He chuckled at your slight pout, reaching out and grabbing your wrist, pulling you into his chest. You fell graciously into his arms, closing your eyes as his arms wrapped around your waist. You breathed in his sent, feeling your mind cloud over at the strong musk. Though your face was in his neck you sensed him moving close your ear, moving your hair out of the way with his nose.

“Miss me?” he whispered into the shell of your ear. You almost cried out to him, yes, yes you did miss him. But instead, you simply wrapped your arms around him and nodded into his shoulder. You finally saw his smirk when he pulled you back, admiring you at arm’s length. He looked up and down your body.  You blushed madly under his gaze.

Taeyong finally leads you inside, closing the door with a thud behind you, only to lean against the dining table, arms folded across his chest, now grinning wildly.

“What made you decide to come back to me, baby?” He asked, thought the sweetness in his voice didn’t reach his eyes, which showed how amused he was by your sudden appearance.

Something had happened, though you were reluctant to share. But it didn’t take much more of his intense gaze to have your resolve cracking.

“umm,” You began, not sure how much you wanted to share. “There was this guy” You eyed him, waiting for his reaction. He didn’t have one. “ Well, we were hanging out, and one thing leads to another,” You continued in a shaky voice, “ I hadn’t told him my name,” You explained, seeing how that was the only way any guy would be willing to risk sleeping with Taeyong’s girl. “But Tae it was-”

“Bad?” He filled in the blank. Still clearly finding the whole thing very amusing.

You swallowed again and nodded. At this, he audibly laughed.

“Well, what did you expect Y/N?” He chuckled out, pushing off the tabled and stalking towards you. “And I’m guessing you finally realized that no other guy can please you the way I do?” He asked mocking you slightly. You nodded again, shamefully.

“Did you finally realize how much you need me?” He asked, this time looking expectantly at you, waiting for an answer. You finally looked up to meet his dark swirling eyes. You had fallen in love with those eyes. You nodded, practically lunging froward to once again attach your self to him.

He chuckled at you once again, hand stroking down the length of your body, from the back of your neck to the swell of your ass.

“Show me how much you need me,” He orders in a soft voice leading you over to the couch. He was so fucking beautiful, your mind was clouded, practically drunk off his attention. You wanted to please him. Make him see how much you wanted him.

You knelt on the couch beside him, taking his hand into yours and raising his wrist to your lips. You trial your lips down the length of his arm savoring the way his soft skin felt against your lips.

Although you found him to be perfect in every way, Taeyong was not with his blemishes, one of these was how possessive he could be over you. While you often deluded yourself into thinking it was out of love, the truth was that Taeyong was greedy, and to put it simply, didn’t like to share toys.

So you continued to shower his body in affection. You moved yourself to straddle his lap, lips now reaching up to his shoulder, you hands skimmed underneath his shirt, tugging lightly, asking him to remove it. He obliged you, pulling the fabric over his head, his hands then resting on your hips, rubbing soft circles into your jeans.

Your lust had you practically drooling over the man in front of you. Just as you were about to dive back into to worshipping his golden skin, he reached up onto the hair at the base of your neck, taking a fist full into his hand by the roots, keeping your head immobile. He tugged at your hair, causing your head to fall back slightly, exposing your neck to the man. In your vulnerable state Taeyong tutted at you.

“So, this man,” He started, your blood ran cold “What was his name?”

Though the question was innocent, it held a deeper meaning.

“umm,?” You wondered aloud. Your mind was so swirled with thoughts of Taeyong, you honestly had a hard time recalling. His hand tapped your hip, telling to hurry up. Though just as he did so he also pulled out tighter onto his lap, bulge pressing into your core deliciously. You got lost in the feeling, starting to swirl and grind your hips absent mindedly

“Uhhh, I think it was-” You trailed off quietly, one good tug on your hair, reminding you of the question, “Umm- it was- I think I was Doyoung?” You wonder aloud. In reward for answering Taeyong began to grind up into you, matching your pace. The seam of your jeans was rubbing directly onto your clit, his hips swirling the bud onto the rough fabric. The outline of his cock was pressing perfectly on your slit, practically sliding between your folds through the fabric. You were already in pure bliss, happily chasing your high.

“Hmm,” He spoke aloud, almost casually as if he wasn’t one particularly strong thrust away from making you cum in your pants, which were already damp from your wetness.

“ You should know better than anyone, baby, how angry that makes me.” He adds, bringing a hand down to add pressure directly onto your clit, you cried out, picking up your pace.

“I think you need a reminder that your mine,” He comments. You were hanging off his every word, seconds away from release your stomach clenched in anticipation. You swirled your hips, once, twice, a third time. You were about to cum, hard, a fourth.

Taeyong quickly released your hair and took you by the hips, lifting you off of him. You nearly toppled over back onto him in shock. You stared at him, mouth agape and wide-eyed, a loud whimper ripping through your body. You were crying out for a release.

He laughed at you once again

“But first you need to thank me for letting you come up here after that stunt. Not listening to me for weeks? Ignoring me? You’ve been bad, baby” He practically spat at you as you collapsed onto the floor at his feet.

“Get over here and apologize.” He demanded, spreading his legs enough for you to sit comfortably between them. If you had thought for a moment you might have noticed the hypocrisy in his words, but you didn’t. Instead, you eagerly crawled into place. Mouth already hanging open, like an eager pet waiting to be fed.

Taeyong sat up straight, hand once again finding purchase in your hair while the other took his now fully erect dick out of his sweat pants. Your cunt throbbed in anticipation, mouth-watering at the sight. You straighten your back, leaning as far forward as the hand in your hair would allow.

“So eager, baby” He chuckled, before guiding your head onto his length. You happily let your jaw go slack as he guided your head up and down his cock. You loved him so much it hurt, so to you, his pleasure was worth the dull pain in the back of your throat. Though clearly, this was not enough, as soon he started thrusting into your mouth harshly. Tears began to stream down your cheeks as his throbbing dick moved down your throat. You choked and gagged frequently, trying your hardest to breathe through your nose.

“Hmm, such a good pretty baby,” He remarked, watching the drool that escaped your mouth drip down your chin. You looked up at him with big round eyes, causing him to groan. As his thrusts become more sporadic. He threw his head back, halting his movements. Soon, thick ropes of cum came pours down your throat. It was sticky and warm, already sliding down your throat. You had no choice but to swallow it, not that you minded.

You finally were released, pulling yourself off his dick. You were panting, throat feeling sore.

His hooded eyes watched you amusement still in his eyes.

“Oh, baby, you’ve always been so good for me,” He praised. “You’re never going to ignore me again are you?” He asked, as though talking to a child. You nodded in affirmation, completely, madly in love with the man before you.

Both of his hands reach out and cupped your face.

“Mine,” he said, more to himself than to you, as your eyes shown with adoration, practically sparkling with devotion.

I love you, I love you, I love you. You brain chanted over and over and over again. Staring longingly at his perfect face. It was as if a red glow surrounded him, everything aside from his figure was a blur, all you could see was Taeyong. You rested your cheek on his knee, eyes not leaving him.

Just as he was about to open his mouth a sudden ringing erupted from his phone. His eyes left your face. Hands leaving your head, and you felt a crash.

He reached forward without missing a beat, answering the phone on the second ring. Your head stopped spinning

“Hello” He spoke, voice clear and unbothered. The person on the other end talked for a moment before Taeyong responded,

“Of course,”

You came down from your high,

Without another word, he hung up the phone, stood abruptly, fixed his appearance, and walked out the front door.

Leaving you in a pile on his floor.

You were back where you started.

#nct smut #taeyong smut #nct scenarios #nct timestamps #taeyong scenarios

[platonicavengers]

Pinky Promise

pairing: avengers x teen!reader; platonic!steve x teen!reader; platonic!natasha x teen!reader

word count: 1,772 (hehe told y’all)

warnings: sadness, depression, maybe swearing?? idk i don’t pay enough attention, post-infinity war feels

author’s note: im :) fine :) not :) sad :) at :) all :) also why do i always write angst am i that incapable of letting anyone be happy hahahah help

summary: it’s been a year since thanos snapped his fingers, and you still feel just as upset as you did the day it happened, but steve and nat are there to try their best to help you :)

my masterlist | read it on ao3 | read it on wattpad

One year; 12 months; 52 weeks; 365 days; 8,760 hours; 525,600 minutes; 31,536,000 seconds.

Since it happened. It, of course, being Thanos snapping his fingers, successfully eliminating 50% of life throughout the entire universe. Since you lost so many of your closest friends, your family.

Some people say that it gets easier with time, that eventually, it stops hurting as much. That after a while, the pain just isn't as bad.

But they would be wrong.

It's been an entire year, and for you, it's only seemed to get worse. The pain just grows each day, the loss of some of your favorite people just taking a larger toll on you as the days go by.

And the team could tell. What's left of the team, at least. Even out of the survivors, not everyone stayed around at the compound, as it would just bring back memories of those they've lost.

Tony had gone to live with Pepper and their daughter, Morgan, in a cabin on the lake. Bruce had gone somewhere, you weren't even sure where he was, and the same with Rhodey. Thor left to go establish New Asgard, and you hadn't seen him since. Carol, although technically not an official member of the team, was up in space most of the time, so you never saw her, either. That left only you, Natasha, and Steve.

Natasha was the first to notice. The way you rarely left your room, and if you did, your eyes were rimmed with a red tint, and your cheeks were puffed up. And if she ever got the chance to speak to you, you would only give her one or two word responses, far from the usual energetic and lengthy ones you used to give.

Steve noticed not long after, partially because Natasha pointed it out to him, and partially on his own. He saw the way you always wore sweatshirts or t- shirts belonging to your fallen friends. He heard you crying at the late hours of the night, when you thought no one else was awake.

So the two of them came together, trying to think of any and every way to help you, to take your mind off of everything, even just for a few minutes. But you did know this. You still stayed locked up in your room, today, especially, not even attempting to drag yourself out of bed, knowing that the only thing you were capable of doing today, was mourning.

••

The minute your alarm clock went off at 7 AM, you could already feel the familiar sensation of a wave of tears approaching. You were used to it by now, and just let it happen on its own.

With the sleeves of one of Wanda’s hoodies folded over your hands, you pressed your wrists to your eyes, trying to stop the stinging feeling of the tears. Your attempt was futile, and a steady stream started flowing down your cheeks, onto the comforter below you.

You sighed in frustration and annoyance when the tears wouldn’t stop. It seems like everyone else has moved on already, you thought to yourself, so why can’t I?

You buried your face in your hands and let out a loud sob. You shook your head, slowly lifting it from your hands as you stared up at the ceiling for a moment. You internally swore at yourself, knowing that what you were about to do was immature, but you were going to do it anyways.

“Hey, u-um,” your voice was quiet, hoarse from going so long without speaking, not to mention nasally from all the crying you’ve been doing lately. You brushed your messy hair out of your face, sniffling loudly, “I-I don’t know if anyone can hear me, but I, uh. I wanted to try an-and say something, just in case any of you guys a-are listening right now.”

You sobbed again, swearing under your breath, “Get it together, Y/N,” you whispered to yourself. You cleared your throat, trying once more to speak, “U-um. I just wanted to say that, um, I miss you all,” your voice broke off, the tears falling faster now, “so much. Uh, I miss you and love you all so much. I would do anything to get a-all of you back here, right now. Whatever it would take, I don’t care. I-I need you all, so badly.”

You cursed at yourself again, much louder than you intended to. Unbeknownst to you, Steve and Natasha heard you. They shared a look, before stopping what they were doing, and standing next to your closed door.

“I’m so, so, so sorry I didn’t do good enough. I tried, as hard as I could. I tried everything I could think of to get everyone back,” your voice had fallen into a low whisper, “b-but nothing worked.”

The pair outside your door felt their hearts break. It hurt them so much to hear you in such pain, and they knew they couldn’t stand to listen any longer. Natasha glanced at Steve, communicating with him through their eyes. Steve sent her a slight nod, knowing what she wanted to do.

The redhead slowly stood up from her squatting position, softly knocking on your door. She spoke quietly, a warm and caring tone laced through her words, “Y/N, sweetie? Could you open the door, please?”

You froze. You hadn’t expected for either of them to try and talk to you. Lately, they had stopped trying to get you to unlock your door, to open up, even just a little, after realizing that you refused to. You stayed silent for a moment, not knowing how, or if you wanted, to respond.

“Please, Y/N. We just want to help you, I promise, honey.”

Natasha’s voice was so calming, with the slight motherly tone coming through her words. You felt your resolve falter for a second, and you contemplated whether to let her in or not. On one hand, you didn’t want them seeing you like this, although you knew they wouldn’t care. But on the other, you so desperately craved comfort, reassurance, especially from those you trusted and cared for so deeply.

“Please,” this time it was Steve that spoke, “we know you’re hurting, and we want to help.”

With his words, you broke. You felt the sobs building up in your chest, and you ran to the door, unlocking and it and yanking it open roughly. You fell into Natasha’s open arms, sobbing. Steve wrapped his arms around you as well, joining the embrace. Your body shook painfully, but the feeling of two of your closest friends holding you so tightly helped soften the blow.

It took you around fifteen minutes to calm down. The whole time, both Steve and Natasha stayed with you on the floor, still holding onto you tightly, occasionally whispering short phrases of comfort into your ears.

When you eventually did settle down, you could feel your body growing tired from your sobs. You slowly lifted your head from Natasha’s shoulder, and she sent you a small smile. She wiped away the tears from under your eyes with the pads of her thumbs, and tucked your hair behind your ears.

Steve shifted so he was in front of you, and he could see your face as he spoke to you, “How ‘bout we have a movie day today, huh? No work, no responsibilities, just hangin’ out and watching movies? Sound good, hmm?”

You weakly nodded, trying your best to send him a smile, but the corners of your lips barely lifted up. He smiled back at you, helping you and Natasha both up from the ground, and the three of you walked together to the living room area.

You sat down on one of the couches, Steve taking the seat next to you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, slowly rubbing your arm as Natasha stood in the kitchen, gathering snacks for you all.

As Steve picked up the TV remote, going to put the first movie on, a memory of a day similar came to mind.

“Everybody sit your asses down, it’s movie day!” You grinned widely as Tony shouted at the rest of the team. You plopped down on one of the couches, Steve on your right, and Wanda on your left. You loved having movie nights with the team, as they were a rare pleasantry in a life as hectic as yours.

“Yo, Tiny! Heads up!” Sam called out to you, chucking a bag of popcorn towards you. You giggled as you caught it, quickly ripping it open and shoving a handful of the snack into your mouth.

Steve reached a hand into the bag, trying to steal some of the popcorn, but you quickly smacked his hand, causing him to send you a playful glare. Your eyes widened as you saw popcorn floating out of the bag, but you jokingly rolled your eyes as you turned to your left, seeing Wanda using her magic to grab some of your food. You sighed, a small smile on your lips, “I really can’t have anything around here, huh?”

You were cut off by a loud “Shh!” and you glanced over to one of the other couches, offering a sheepish smile to an impatient Natasha.

You were brought back to reality by a loud shout of your name, and you blinked your eyes a few times, seeing both Steve and Natasha in front of you, worry clear on their faces.

They both visibly relaxed when you looked at them, but their concern quickly returned when they saw your eyes well up with tears, and a sob break its way past your lips.

Natasha wrapped her arms around you, bringing you to her chest and slowly rocking you back and forth, “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

“I-I miss them s-so much!” You stuttered out between sobs.

Natasha felt herself tear up, her hold on you tightening, “Oh, sweetie, I know, I know. I miss them too.”

A few minutes later, Natasha released from the hug, but kept you tucked into her side, running her fingers through your hair. Steve grabbed ahold of your hands, gently rubbing his thumbs on top of your fingers, “I promise you, Y/N, we’re gonna get them back. We’re gonna get them all back.”

You wiped away a lone tear, whispering, “Pinky promise?” You knew it was immature, but you held up a shaking pinky, desperate for reassurance, no matter how childish it made you seem.

Steve chuckled softly, wrapping his pinky around yours, “Pinky promise.”

#platonic avengers #avengers x platonic!reader #platonic!avengers x reader #platonic!steve rogers x reader #platonic!natasha romanoff x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x teen!reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x teen!reader #avengers x teen!reader #mcu x reader #avengers imagine #avengers fanfiction #marvel x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #mcu fanfiction

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Eccentricity [Chapter 2: You Can Run Around Infinite In My Head]

Series Summary: Joe Mazzello is a nice guy with a weird family. A VERY weird family. They have a secret, and you have a choice to make. 

Potentially a better love story than Twilight (we’ll let @killer-queen-xo​ decide when it’s all said and done 😉).

Chapter Title Is A Lyric From: Rome by Dermot Kennedy.

Chapter Warnings: Language, mentions of violence. 

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Tagging: @queen-turtle-boiii​ @bramblesforbreakfast​​  @killer-queen-xo​​ @maggieroseevans​​ @culturefiendtrashqueen​​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​​ @escabell​​ @im-an-adult-ish​​ ​ @queenlover05​​ @someforeigntragedy​​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​​ ​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye​​ @deacyblues​​ ​ @tensecondvacation​​ ​ @brianssixpence​​ 

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! 💜

Missing In Action

I wish she would stop staring at me.

Lucille sat at the Lees’ usual table and apathetically picked through a heaping salad. (Friday was salad bar day, which I appreciated considerably more than the chicken finger obsession that marred Mondays at Calawah University.) Every once in a while, Rami nudged her and Lucille would spear a cherry tomato with her fork and bite it in half with perfectly even, white teeth. But her large blue-green eyes—they reminded me of webs of seaweed tumbling in the cold, frothing La Push waves—always found their way back to me, strangely focused, inquisitive, perhaps accusatory.

Ben probably told them how much he hates me for whatever nebulous reason and now they all hate me too and I’m going to spend the next two years being death-glared by five ridiculously attractive and somewhat incestuous foster kids.

Chemistry was a three times a week class. Ben hadn’t shown on Wednesday, and I was 99% sure he would skip again today. I spotted him around campus periodically, always from a distance: dropping quarters into a vending machine, clandestinely vaping behind dorm buildings (what self-respecting pre-med student VAPES?!!), browsing YouTube videos in the library next to a tower of unopened textbooks, biology and chem and physics and calculus. He wasn’t home, he wasn’t sick; there was no attempt made to construct any sort of pretext. He was patently avoiding me.

I stabbed moodily at the serrated disks of cucumber in my salad. Jessica was blathering away about the latest season of The Bachelor and ranking the contestants’ eyebrows from best to worst. “...Like seriously, has she never heard of microblading?!”

“For real,” Angela offered, not especially invested but forever a good sport.

Lucille’s eyes settled on me again as she sipped a cup of steaming tea, staring until her forehead crinkled with the effort, staring hard, almost leering.

“What’s her problem?” I muttered.

Jessica shot a glance towards the Lee table and slurped her Sprite. The great mystery surrounding her potential Mormon-ness persisted. “Who? Lucy?”

Only Lucille’s friends called her Lucy. Jessica, a shameless aspiring socialite, presumed she was everybody’s friend unless they explicitly informed her otherwise, which of course no one ever did.

“Yeah,” I answered glumly.

“Maybe it’s your dress.”

“My dress? What’s wrong with my dress?”

Jessica wrinkled her nose and surveyed me as if I were a bug, and not a cute bug like a roly-poly bug or The Very Hungry Caterpillar or whatever. Like a really hideous bug. Like one of those spider-cricket hybrid things that hopped straight out of a hell dimension and into the dark, drippy corners of your basement. “It’s, like, very 1960s. But not in a sexy Woodstock way. In a ‘I’m about to join a hippie murder cult’ way.”

“I got it at TJ Maxx. It was on sale.”

Jessica snorted. “Probably for a reason.”

“That’s it. I’m giving all the hippies in my new murder cult your address.”

She and Angela laughed. Mike and Eric, the missing pieces of our daily lunch puzzle, were preoccupied with a campus protest to convert fried fish day (Thursdays) into tacos day. I sympathized with their efforts, but didn’t feel that my one-week tenure as a Calawah University student gave me much right to go around overhauling the dining hall schedule.

“I doubt she’s actually offended by a dress,” Angela said, nibbling on French fries that shed grains of salt like snowflakes.

Jessica sighed dreamily. “But Lucy’s just so fashionable...and that accent...” She drifted off into some daydream which began—I could only assume—with Lucy’s invitation to go shopping together and concluded with marrying Ben on some lush tropical island in the South Pacific.

Lucille was definitely fashionable, especially today: short black dress with sheer sleeves that ran to her fragile wrists, black polka dot tights, black heeled oxfords, dangling ruby earrings like beads of blood. She would have blended in perfectly at Paris Fashion Week. Rami was wearing a cardigan and khakis, per usual; Joe was in dark fitted jeans and a roomy U Chicago hoodie despite the fact that Forks was at minimum a thirty-four hour drive from the Windy City. What did Angela say his major was? Finance? No, Mathematical Economics. So he’s probably aiming at Chicago for an MBA or Econ PhD someday. Angela had told me that Joe was wicked smart. He better be if he’s entertaining fantasies of grad school at the University of Chicago.

Scarlett had come straight from Fencing Club and was wearing bright pink yoga pants and a t-shirt with the sleeves cut out, sprinkling Hot Cheetos into her open mouth, her blonde hair secured in a tight French braid. You know those girls who are so irrationally, gluttonously, unfairly beautiful that it doesn’t seem possible the genetic lottery could spit out so many winning numbers at once, and you comfort yourself with the certainty that there must be some set of circumstances that would level the playing field—I bet she looks like anyone else without all that makeup, she just has a really good sense of style and knows how to maximize her assets, there are definitely some goofy oversized ears hiding beneath that hair and that’s why she always wears it down—and then one day you run into them wearing sweatpants and a ponytail in the tampon aisle at Walmart and they’re still so perfect it stings you, baffles you, makes you feel like there must have been some divergence in the evolutionary chain because there’s no freaking way you’re the same species? Yeah, Scarlett was one of those girls. Scarlett was the queen of those girls.  

Ben was conspicuously absent from the table.

Scarlett’s pink leopard-print iPhone rang and she answered. “Hello?” She turned to Joe. “Dad says you left your phone at home. Do you need it?”

Joe was gnawing his way through his third slice of pepperoni pizza. “No, I’m good, thanks though.”

Scarlett relayed the message. “Dad says he’s going to bring it by just in case.”

“Oh my god, ScarJo, I’m fine! Tell him not to!”

“Dad says he doesn’t trust you and he’s going to be here in fifteen minutes. He’s also bringing the Game Theory homework you left by the hot tub.”

Joe groaned and rolled his lively dark eyes as Rami grinned at him; Lucille was still watching me and entirely oblivious.

“Isn’t it weird that Ben and Lucille have accents?” I asked Jessica. “That they’re from the U.K.? I didn’t think fostering kids was an international thing.”

“It’s not that weird. Dr. Lee is British too. Maybe there’s some kind of exchange system, I don’t know. But you know what I do know?”

“What?” Now my interest was piqued.

She smiled. “That the British accents are hot.”

“Ugh,” I exhaled involuntarily.

“Please get a hobby,” Angela begged Jessica. “Start a YouTube channel. Make care packages for orphans. Grow marijuana. Adopt a cat. I have a shift at the animal shelter this Sunday morning, you want to come with me?”

“Sorry, can’t. I have a temple thing.”

Temple on Sunday. The mystery is solved. She’s a Mormon for sure. I mentally resolved not to let her set me up with anyone unless I was still single on Valentine’s Day. Which, obviously, assuming I’m not dead in a ditch somewhere, I will be.

I gathered up my trash and slung my backpack over my shoulder. “Okay, well this has been a bizarre lunch to be completely honest, and now I have to go to Chemistry so I’ll see you later and hopefully we can brainstorm some more alternatives to Jessica’s current life trajectory on Monday. Because I am not looking forward to being a bridesmaid in these impending Lee nuptials.”

“Oh please!” Jessica lamented. “He doesn’t even know I exist. You, on the other hand...”

I scoffed. “Yeah, he wants to kill me. I truly have a gift.”

They waved as I left. I could feel Lucille’s eyes on me until I reached the door.

Sure enough, Ben wasn’t in Chemistry. I tried not to notice. I drew my atoms, wrote my equations, took my notes diligently and in my favorite sky blue ink. But I felt the emptiness in the chair next to me like a black hole, like an immense and dragging weight, like a snag in the fabric of all those interwoven strands of physics that orchestrate the universe like an immortal puppeteer. Why can’t I forget this guy? Why do I still feel like I’ve met him before?

Halfway through class, I hauled my emergency sweatshirt out of my backpack and pulled it on over my dress, floral and flowing and golden yellow like the sun, the sun that never shines here in Forks. I had liked it plenty under the florescent lights of the fitting room at TJ Maxx, and I had still liked it this morning; but Jessica’s words hummed around in my skull like wasps. The zipper of the sweatshirt was broken, but it accomplished the task of obscuring my dress well enough.

After Chemistry, I journeyed to the campus library to find a book I was supposed to read and present for a different class. I looked it up in the computer catalogue, spent an embarrassingly long time trying to figure out how the Dewey Decimal System works, eventually wound up finding the book on the highest floor of the library...and, to add a little extra peril to the mission, on the highest shelf. The book mocked me from its lofty, unattainable stronghold. The title was embossed in gold letters down the crimson spine. The Walruses And Me: A Transformative Experience. Idiotic title, I’m aware. It’s about some marine biologist who spent months alone in the Arctic studying the lifecycles of walruses. A noble pursuit, sure, but still a terrible title.

There wasn’t a chair or stepstool in sight. I tested my weight by stepping up onto the second-lowest shelf. The metal immediately squealed and shifted in protest. I retreated back down to the carpet, defeated by gravity. I scowled up at the book and sighed melodramatically. Ugh.

“Need something?”  

I spun around to see Joe in his University of Chicago hoodie and pale flawless skin and intangible magnetism, that bewildering trademark Lee ethereality. I instinctively crossed my arms, clutching the sleeves of my sweatshirt, shrinking inwards like a startled armadillo in the Arizona desert.

“Are you, uh, anemic...?” he ventured.

“Oh no, I’m not cold. I’m just trying to hide my dress. My friend said it was too hippie-murder-cult 1960s.”

I figured he’d laugh, make a snide comment, maybe just blink in confusion. Instead, he glimpsed down at my dress—what could still be seen of it, anyway—and shook his head. “The neckline isn’t right for the 60s. And you seem like you’ve showered at least once in the past two weeks, so definitely not a hippie.”

I smiled, completely unexpectedly. “I didn’t realize Econ majors knew anything about leftist counterculture.”

“Disparaging it is our favorite pastime. Are you trying to get a book or are you just disrespecting university property for entertainment?”

I pointed. “The big red one.”

“The Walruses And Me...?”

“I know, it’s a horrible title. Not my personal preference. It’s for a class.”

“Bestiality 101?”

“Good guess. Marine Mammals.”

“Ahhh.” He glanced up and down the aisle, tapped his chin with agile fingers, pondered something I wasn’t privy to. “Turn around for a second.”

“What? Why?”

He waved his hand mysteriously in front of his grinning face. “It’s a magic trick. I’m going to make your problem disappear.”

“You can’t climb that,” I warned. “You’ll fall and break your neck. Or you’ll knock the whole shelf over and cause a tragic domino effect and the university will withhold your diploma until you pay them restitution.”

“I’m extremely athletic.”

“Are you sure?” I appraised him with exaggerated skepticism for comedic effect. “My dad refers to you only as the spindly annoying Lee.”

Oh my god, WHY did I say that?

Now he would definitely hate me. Now I’d have two mortal enemies on one campus. I mentally calculated how humiliating it would be to transfer to some Florida college, any Florida college, after only one week at Calawah. Hi mom, yeah I’m coming to live with you and Paul, a gang of hot pasty foster kids wants to slaughter me.

Instead, Joe threw back his head and cackled wildly. A librarian—mid-fifties, angry red hair from out of a box, fuzzy cat sweater—glared into the aisle and shushed him.

“Chief Swan...he actually...he calls me that? Really?!” Joe managed, wiping his leaking eyes. “That’s hilarious. I’m so glad my life is in his hands. Okay seriously, turn around.”

“Why would you help me?” I asked suspiciously.

“That’s just what I do. I’m a friendly guy.”

“This friendliness must not run in the family.”

Again, Joe’s cheerful demeanor didn’t falter. “You mean Ben? Forget about Ben, he hates everyone. Don’t take it personally.” Then he added: “Plus, as I’m sure you know, we’re not biologically related. No overlapping genetic material whatsoever. I didn’t get the male supermodel gene, he didn’t get the irresistibly charming gene, life’s not fair but the world keeps spinning.”

“It sure does,” I agreed softly. Unexpected wisdom from my new favorite Lee. I turned away from him. “Fine, I’m not looking, go ahead and dazzle me with your supernatural friendliness—”

“Done.”

“What?” I whirled around. Joe held The Walruses And Me in his hand. “How...did you...?!”

He passed me the book as I sputtered incoherently. “I told you. Magic trick.”

“I don’t....?!” I gawked up at the top shelf, at Joe, back to the top shelf. Sure enough, the space where The Walruses And Me once lived was now just a vacant slit in the row of dusty books. How could he have climbed up there that quickly? How could I not have heard anything? “The shelves didn’t even creak,” I murmured shakily.

“Yes, well, that’s due to my conveniently spindly physique.” Joe winked. “Any other problems I can help you solve at the moment, Baby Swan?”

“No. And don’t call me Baby Swan, or I’ll push this whole bookshelf over and tell the feisty librarian lady you did it.”

“That’s cold, ma’am.”

I liked that Joe didn’t make me feel like Ben did: unworthy, unloved, infuriating. Joe made me feel something else, something lighthearted, casual, buoyant; like the world didn’t have anything in it worth worrying about, regretting, agonizing over. Like unadulteratedly myself was all I ever needed to be.

I heard a muted buzz and Joe slid his iPhone out of his jeans pocket. Dr. Lee must have successfully delivered it. “Whoops, I forgot that Ordinary Differential Equations existed. Got to go. See ya.”

“Bye,” I replied. And then Joseph Lee was gone, very quickly, a little too quickly, the same way that Ben had vanished on that first afternoon after Chemistry.

Forks is weird. Calawah University is weird. And the Lee kids are super fucking weird.

Long Walks On The Beach

“Can I ask you a random question?”

“You just paid me $100 for an oil change that took fifteen minutes. You can ask me anything you want.” He grinned, flashing bright teeth and deep dimples.

It was Saturday afternoon. I had shoveled down a Chipotle veggie bowl as Archer changed the 1999 Accord’s oil in a small garage with a cracked concrete floor and the searing pungency of gasoline fumes thick in the air. He had apprenticed all through high school and rented his own shop after graduation. Archer now had a loyal clientele that encompassed virtually the entire Quileute reservation and a growing chunk of Forks...including Charlie and me, of course. Archer was the only child of Larry Foxchild—Charlie’s best friend since they worked together at Dairy Queen as teenagers—and the closest thing to a son my dad would ever have. I guess that made him like a brother to me, something that seemed intuitive now that I’d thought of it.

After the Accord was serviced we drove it down to La Push to walk on the beach, climb the salt-lashed rocks, toss pebbles into the roiling surf, reprise our childhood enthusiasm for poking dead washed-up marine creatures with shards of driftwood.

“Do you know anything about the Lees?” I asked Archer, investigating a deceased green shore crab.

His brow furrowed. He looked so serious like that, suddenly so much like Larry: the same tan skin, jet black hair, umbral eyes like oil wells, strong jaw overlaid with the stubbled shadow of a beard. We really aren’t kids anymore, are we? “The doctor and his kids?”

“Yeah. The foster kids. They’re really pale and strange and half of them are British.”

Archer chuckled. “I know who you mean. They’re hard to miss.”

“Are they...” Just eccentric rich people? Traumatized from abusive childhoods? Government experiments? CIA agents? Secret murderers? The image of Ben in that first Chemistry class came roaring back to me, including the adjective that had flashed red behind my eyes like an emergency exit sign: fierce. Finally, I decided: “Dangerous?”

Now Archer full-on laughed, gripping his belly, shaking his head. Drops of saltwater flew from his short hair. “Seriously?!” he exclaimed. “Come on, they’re freaks but they’re not, like...that kind of freaks.”

“Are you sure?” I was starting to feel better already. Of course they’re not actual demons, you fucking idiot. This is Washington, not The Twilight Zone or Black Mirror. Not goddamn American Horror Story.

“Yeah.” Archer skipped a grey pebble over the water, something I’d never been able to do. “I’ll be honest, I don’t know them all that well. They usually keep to themselves. But I’ve never heard anything bad about any of the kids. And everyone respects Dr. Lee and appreciates him for taking the pay cut to come to some bumblefuck town like Forks. He’s insanely highly credentialed, has degrees from Harvard or Yale or somewhere like that. Super impressive. We’re lucky to have him. I definitely sleep better at night knowing he’ll be the one to fix me up if I ever get a few fingers ripped off on the job.”

“Don’t even say that. Then who would I grossly overpay for oil changes?”

Archer smiled, then sobered as he peered out over the Pacific Ocean.

“What?” I asked, feeling a plummeting in my guts like primal fear.

“Well...okay, so there is one thing that’s always bothered me. You remember Grandpa Foxchild?”

“Yeah, of course.” He had been an impossibly ancient man with long grey braided hair, a low rumbly voice, gnarled arthritic hands, ceaseless wrinkles. I remembered Charlie calling me when he passed away last spring. Renee and I had picked out a flower arrangement to send to the funeral.

“So,” Archer said slowly, like he was still puzzling it out himself. “Grandpa used to say things like ‘That Dr. Lee has been around a long time.’ Which of course makes no sense, the Lees moved here like two years ago. And I’d tell Grandpa that, but he completely ignored me. He would just keep repeating it. ‘That Dr. Lee shouldn’t still be here.’ ‘That Dr. Lee should go on home to where he came from.’ ‘That Dr. Lee isn’t right.’ Creepy shit like that. My dad and I always assumed it was the dementia talking, but...I don’t know. It just bothered me. Because Grandpa...he wasn’t just being gossipy or suspicious. He was angry. And he was afraid. Grandpa was at Guadalcanal and Iwo Jima and he would talk about that no problem, mention landmines or flesh melting off a soldier’s face like it was nothing. He was a tough guy. Immeasurably tough, I’ll never be half the man he was. But if you mentioned the Lees, Grandpa got scared. Why the hell would he be so scared of them?”

I didn’t have an answer for him, not a single word. I just stared at Archer, my eyes growing huge, my heart sprinting, blood pounding in my ears. He knew. Grandpa Foxchild knew there was something off about them, and now I know it too. I don’t know how I know, but I do.

Archer tittered nervously. “Anyway, that was genuinely disturbing. But like I said. It was probably just the dementia.”

“What if it wasn’t?”

“It had to be,” he insisted. “There’s no other logical explanation.”

“I guess,” I agreed, scooping up the green shore crab corpse with my bare hands. I hurled it out into the waves, imagined it sinking through murky water and suspended grains of sand, the body settling into prehistoric silt, the scavengers descending upon it, the inescapable wheel of birth and death and resurrection through those who unwittingly carry our atoms with them into the next generation, into the perpetual future.

That night my dreams were full of pale skin and scorching eyes, Ben and Joe and Rami, Lucille and Scarlett, crashing waves, cold water and bleached bones; and Grandpa Foxchild’s mistrustful refrain: That Dr. Lee has been around a long time.

Benjamin

I soared down the staircase and through the dining room. Gwil was working late at the hospital, Mercy outside tending the animals, everyone else presumably scattered throughout the house. I had to get out before anyone noticed me. I had to get out without Rami or Lucy knowing.

I yanked open the door to the back porch. Rami was waiting there.

“Good evening,” he greeted me in that slow, thoughtful drawl.

“Stay the fuck out of my head.”

“You know how it works, Benny Boy. I can’t ignore the loud thoughts. And you’ve been having some very loud thoughts lately.”

I stared down at my shoes, all black Adidas. Black is good. It doesn’t show stains. For example, purely hypothetically, splatters of human blood and organs. “I can make it quick. I can make it painless.”

Rami’s aura flared maroon; not enraged, no, not quite that, but certainly revolted. I was always finding new and horrifying ways to revolt them, whether I was trying to or not. “She has a family, Ben. A father. You know Chief Swan, you’ve seen him around town. He’s a good person. She’s a good person. You really want to do this? You really want to relapse like this?”

I didn’t reply. I didn’t have to. Hearing thoughts is a tricky thing, and not a gift that I would ever want; unspoken words are rarely a steam and usually a storm, disjointed and twisting, interrupting each other, bottomless layers of whispers and screams. But I was sure Rami could catch the important parts: that I didn’t know the difference between good and bad people, that I didn’t know what to think of people at all, that for me her blood was not a desire but a compulsion. I couldn’t stop envisioning it spilling over my tongue and teeth, down my throat, hot and pulsing erratically and fading. “Why can’t you hear her? Why can’t I see what she’s feeling?”

Rami shrugged, characteristically placid and restrained. It was maddening. “There are seven and a half billion people on this planet. So maybe every once in a while you get one that lives in our blind spots, there’s something chromosomal or psychological that puts them on a different frequency. I don’t know. How the hell should I know? All I know is that you definitely shouldn’t be seriously considering...well. What you’re considering.”  

“Have you ever met someone whose thoughts you couldn’t hear before?”

“No,” Rami admitted; and was that a ghost of unease that crossed his face?

“Please, Rami. Let me go. Pretend you never saw me.” My words come out strained, hushed, like a spilled secret, like a confession. I’ve never wanted anyone’s blood like I want hers.

He heard that; I could see the dismay in his eyes. Now his aura is dark grey, almost black. Disappointment. Resignation. Mourning. “I told you what Lucy saw.”

“What she saw is impossible and you know it.”

Again, Rami shrugged. That blind, mindless faith. I wished I knew what it felt like. “She’s never wrong.”

“Have you told him?”

“Who, Joe?! Of course I haven’t told Joe. He...”

“He wouldn’t believe it either?” I snapped, like it was a victory.

“No,” Rami amended carefully. “No, he would believe anything Lucy saw.” Lucy had visions: flashes of the future, the past, the present. They were rare and unpredictable, often fragmented, snapshots rather than arcs. But they were always true. Or, rather, the other Lees claimed they were. The real Lees. “I don’t know what he would do about it,” Rami said finally. “So I’m waiting it out. And killing one of the primary participants is definitely not waiting it out.”

I seethed as I glared at him, hating him in that moment, hating myself only slightly more; and he heard that too. But then that wispy, fleeting haze around him was a pink like the last threads of sunlight sinking into the Western horizon. Forgiveness. Attachment. Love.

“Come with me, Ben,” Rami said gently, opening the door. “Come back inside. You can beat this. You’re better than this. You’re a good soul. You wouldn’t be with us if you weren’t.”

I tried to laugh. It came out like a snarl. “I haven’t had a soul in a long time.”

#joe mazzello fic #joe mazzelo x reader #borhap #borhap fic #borhap cast fic #twilight au #twilight #supernatural au

[relictraveler]

hmmmmmm. thinking about b5 today. i think its like the closest to My Tastes Exactly a tv show will likely ever get but heres some points i think it couldve stood to improve. under the cut because its long as hell and so i dont spoil my friend whos watching it with me still lol. feel free to come and yell with me in the notes

love all the characters but i feel like jms had too many to fulfill too many specific plot functions. he really should have combined some and it wouldve fixed the issue of so many characters having to choose between complex inner psyche development and actually contributing to the plot. specifically i feel like marcus’ plot/dev could have been given to lennier and explained away as something he simply hid or was under oath to hide from everyone else. it wouldve cut down too the time jms needed to introduce marcus and used it to flesh out lennier and potentially other characters. love the british bastard to death but it was the best option i think. also ivanova should have been given the “telepathic equivalent of a nuke” plot after talia left. some kinda hand wave excuse where she gives her the ironheart powers. lyta i think has the issue of having literally no relationship with any main character at all besides zack which gives her the impression of being totally seperate from the rest of the show except when they need her to do telepath things. ivanova getting the plot instead fixes this issue. giving it to ivanova would have given her more depth to explore beyond her traumatic past relationships and more to do in the plot beyond being the commander when sheridans away

franklin got some amazing fucking development in season 3 but god with the s4 compression he got to do fuck all for the main plot beyond being an errand boy with marcus. i think the easiest solution would have been to let his dad be a major contender on earth’s side of the war. it doesnt need to be a huge facet i get that they were pressed for airtime trying to fit two seasons into one. even just a few scenes where franklin struggles with it wouldve been a huge boost for his character

i havent seen this part of s5 in like 6 years but god. garibaldi’s ending in s5 fucking sucks. i feel like jms accidentally wrote himself into a corner giving garibaldi a visible family in sleeping in light, operating under the assumption it was a quick character wrap up and he wouldnt have to develop it more, but then whoops s5 happens and now he was to write in how garibaldi famous rebel and wildcard somehow settles down into a nuclear family. in my perfect world his ending would have wrapped up either one of his two biggest plot threads, neither of which the edgars industry ending really addresses: his relationship with sinclair or his relationship with the psycorps. i am more inclined toward the sinclair one because its simply a huge facet of his character jms never addresses and we never let garibaldi deal with the on-screen grief of having his best friend, the reason hes even on b5, the one who gave him a second chance at life, abandon him without a proper goodbye. this might get into fanfic territory but god i would have loved to see a subplot where as hes going through the trauma of bester’s influence he throws himself into figuring out how to go back in time with sinclair. ending with him finally reconciling with that trauma and going into the time rift with a tearful goodbye to everyone else. other option here also would just be to resolve the psycorps issue instead. i havent thought about this one too much but i imagine it would just be a mercenary arc where he systemically destroys the psycorps from the inside out and it ends with him inflicting some ironic fate worse than death onto bester as revenge fro the internal block preventing garibaldi from killing him outright

s5 main plot in general was shit i genuinely dont think any part of it was good enough to justify its presence beyond maybe like one or two episodes. telepaths got enough development and moral quandry episodes throughout the 4 seasons we did not need byron’s vampire diaries ass. also dont care for the centauri arc there we already know the ending and londo is literally already the most developed bitch on the show he didnt need a whole half season arc seeing unnecessary build up to the character ending we've already known about since war without end. i appreciate what s5 is trying to do because so few stories deal with the aftermath of the main plot like b5 does here but we couldve gone a different route. im not claiming to know what the correct answer here was but personally i think the bureau 13 thread would have been interesting. u know that thing sheridan brings up randomly in s2 and its such an interesting thing to his character and we literally never see it again. yeah i think bringing up a secret evil society within earth gov/psycorps after we dissolve the current gov would have been a really interesting plot. a narn arc independent of the centauri also would have been interesting. idk i know jms was burnt out as hell and i appreciate the character dev we did get in s5 so im not too cranky about it but god the potential

#personal

[lustfulholland]

Test Me (Prologue)

Bucky Barnes x avenger!rogers!Reader

warnings: language, violence, my shit writing, stinky aliens

summary: in which she's on her own team

A/N: this is the second part of Trust Me, so if you haven’t read that series you should go do that first !! ++ this series is going to be longggggg considering most will be spent w/o Bucky (I’m sure the time period can help you put that together) but the many chapters w/o Bucky will (hopefully) be worth it ++ I SCHEDULED THIS POST FOR THE WRONG DAY AHAHAH IM SORRY ITS LATE ANGELS

-

“We need your help. Look, it’s not overselling it to say that the fate of the universe is at stake here.”

“And who’s we?”

“Hey Tony.”

Y/N watches angrily — Strange promised he wouldn’t go to Tony. To be fair she’s only met him five minutes previous. 

Y/N studies the camera footage — Stark jogging with Pepper’s hand in his own. She scoffs and slams the laptop shut, looking at the other computer showing a still of Steve. She clicks play and he tugs his hat down, glancing up at the camera before looking back at his feet.

“Whoever is behind me,” Y/N says, “You better get out or I’ll take you out.”

“Mrs. Barnes—”

Y/N whips around and holds the knife to the stranger’s neck, “What the hell did you just call me?”

“I’m Dr. Stephen Strange,” the man says calmly, “I wouldn’t have come to you if it wasn’t urgent. I think it’s safe to say th—”

“How the hell did you know where I was?” she asks.

“The fate of the universe is at stake,” he continues, unfazed by the blade pressed to his throat.

“And what’s in it for me?”

“I help you find them.”

“Barnes is in Wakanda, my brother is on the run, Stark is being lovey-dovey with Ms. Potts. I don’t need you.”

“Well then why haven’t you killed them? You promised them, didn’t you?” he asks. She presses the knife closer to his throat.

“I will murder you,” she says through grit teeth.

“No you won’t,” he says, with a slight smile. She scoffs and he shakes his head. “Prove me wrong.”

She stares challengingly and Strange lifts an eyebrow. She sighs and drops the knife, turning her back to them and opening the laptop.

“Alright doctor, tell me about the fate of the universe,” she says. Strange rattles off details to Y/N as she scrolls through various websites. She hums every once in a while to acknowledge the man. As he continues she cuts him off. “Doctor Stephen Strange, world renowned neurosurgeon. As a result of a horrifying accident the surgeon lost his ability to use his hands and other injuries. After many costly surgeries and therapies--”

“Enough,” Strange says. Y/N stands up straight and turns back to Strange with a smirk on her face.

“So how are you doing…” she makes a circular motion at him, “Life?”

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, “That’s not important right now. What is important is--”

“As far as I’m concerned I don’t need to help you,” she says, “I have holed myself away for nearly two years--”

“Mrs. Ba--”

“It’s Y/N,” she corrects, “And if you try Ms. Rogers I will kick your ass into yesteryear, so call me by my name.”

“Y/N,” Strange says reluctantly, “I know that you’re seeking vengeance against the three men, but if you don’t come with me right now I’ll have to seek out Mr. Stark.”

Y/N tenses up, “So?”

“You wouldn’t want Stark to be doing your job for you,” Strange says, “I know you. I know what’s going on in your brain. You don’t want Tony Stark to do what you know you could do ten times better.”

“Reverse psychology won’t work on me,” Y/N says, crossing her arms over her chest. Strange quirks an eyebrow at her as if to challenge her words. He opens his mouth and her resolve breaks before he can try again. “What is it that you need me to do?”

Strange lets a barely-there smile appear on his face, “Have you heard of a man-- alien named Thanos?”

Y/N clenches her jaw and stiffens once again, “He’s been mentioned once or twice. What does this have to do with me?”

“If you would let me finish--”

“Thanos is Tony’s guy,” Y/N says, “And you probably know that, don’t you? There’s no way I’m helping you! You’re just gonna ask Tony to join and--”

“I won’t go to Stark,” Strange says, “Let me tell you why I need you and I won’t go to him.”

Y/N is reluctant, but nods. She motions for him to continue. As the explanation goes on she feels more compelled to help the stranger. He’s hiding something, she can feel it. She knows he isn’t telling the entire truth, but it doesn’t make her want to abandon the mission.

“And you promise not to go to Tony?” Y/N says.

Strange sighs, “I promise.”

Y/N’s eyes skim the three men walking closer. Tony glances over to her, a shocked expression flooding his face. She lunges forward but Bruce is quick to wrap his arms around her.

“Be nice,” Bruce says. Y/N rolls her eyes and sits on the stairs, glaring at Tony as the situation is explained.

“We swore an oath to protect the Time Stone with our lives,” Wong says.

“And I swore off dairy, but then, Ben & Jerry's named a flavor after me, so…” Tony retorts.

“Stark Raving Hazelnuts,” Strange says.

“It's not bad,” Tony says.

Strange adds, “A bit chalky.”

“A Hunka-Hulka Burning Fudge is our favorite,” Wong says.

“That's a thing?” Bruce asks.

“Whatever. Point is: things change,” Tony says.

“Our oath to protect the Time Stone cannot change,” Strange says, “This Stone may be the best chance we have against Thanos.”

“And still conversely, it may also be his best chance against us,” Tony argues.

“Well, if we don't do our jobs—”

“What is your job exactly, besides making balloon animals?” Tony asks

“Protecting your reality, douchebag,” Strange replies calmly. Y/N can’t help the laugh that escapes her lips and she slaps a hand over her mouth.

“I’m sorry,” she says, muffled by her hand. 

“Okay, guys, could we table this discussion right now?” Bruce asks, “The fact is that we have this Stone. We know where it is. Vision is out there somewhere with the Mind Stone, and we have to find him now.”

“Yeah, that's the... thing,” Tony says awkwardly.

“What do you mean?” Bruce asks.

“Two weeks ago, Vision turned off his transponder. He's offline,” Tony says.

“What? Tony, you lost another super bot?” Bruce asks incredulously.

“I didn't lose him. He's more than that. He's evolving.”

“Who could find Vision, then?” Strange asks.

“I know where he is,” Y/N says, “But too bad I don’t like you.”

“You’re kidding,” Tony says.

“Am I?” Y/N asks, furrowing her brows.

Bruce sighs, “Y/N, the fate—”

“The fate of the universe is in danger,” Y/N mocks, “Blah, blah, blah. I know. I’m sure somebody else knows where Vision is. Any ideas, Stark?”

Y/N stares at Tony, as if to challenge him. He sighs, muttering a curse and then looking back to the others.

“Probably Steve Rogers,” Tony reluctantly suggests. Y/N smiles triumphantly, clapping lightly at his answer.

Strange sighs, “Oh great.”

“Maybe,” Tony says, “But…”

“Call him,” Bruce says. Y/N throws her head back with laughter, looking over to Bruce as she calms.

“Oh you don’t know!” she exclaims, “Of course not!”

“What don’t I know?” Bruce chuckles nervously.

“Tell him,” Y/N says, “Come on Tony! Tell him!”

“The Avengers broke up,” Tony says, “We’re toast.”

“Broke up? Like a band? Like The Beatles?” Bruce asks.

“Cap and I fell out hard,” Tony says, “We're not on speaking terms.”

“That’s an understatement,” Y/N snorts.

Bruce shakes his head, “Tony, listen to me. Thor's gone. Thanos is coming. It doesn't matter who you're talking to or not.”

Tony hesitates, then pulls out the phone Steve mailed him. Tony makes a quiet comment about the old device, and flips it open. He hovers his finger over the call button, but stops when an unusual rumbling begins.

“Say, Doc, you wouldn't happen to be moving your hair, would you?” Tony asks. Strange glances up at a lock of his hair standing on its own.

“Not at the moment, no.”

Tony looks up at the Hulk-shaped hole in the ceiling and sees debris flying by outside. He exits the Sanctum through the front door and scans the outdoors. The group follows behind him to watch the chaos unfold. People run and scream, traffic piles up, litter flies in the wind. A woman falls down and Tony helps her up.

“You okay?” Tony asks. The woman ignores him, running off and bumping into Y/N. A car crashes in on a pole behind Tony. “Help him! Wong, look alive!”

“Go! Got it!” Bruce exclaims.

Tony slips on his sunglasses, “FRIDAY, what am I looking at?”

“Not sure, I’m working on it,” the AI replies.

“Hey! You might wanna put that Time Stone in your back pocket, Doc!” Tony says.

“Might wanna use it,” Strange replies, magical bands forming around his forearms. A distant humming grows louder as Tony and Y/N round the corner near an intersection. Above Bleecker Street a giant circular ship floats in the air.

“What the shit?” Y/N whispers.

“FRIDAY, evac anyone south of 43rd Street, notify first responders,” Tony says.

“Will do.”

Doctor Strange throws the Winds of Watoomb over Bleecker Street and winks at Tony. As the dust clears a look of amusement appears on Tony’s face for only a moment. Two other-worldly creatures exit the ship by transmat.

“Once again,” Y/N says, “What the shit?”

“Hear me, and rejoice. You are about to die at the hands of the Children of Thanos. Be thankful, that your meaningless lives are now contributing to—” Maw begins.

“I'm sorry, Earth is closed today,” Tony interrupts, “You better pack it up and get outta here.”

“Stonekeeper,” Maw looks at Strange and motions to Tony, “Does this chattering animal speak for you?”

“Certainly not. I speak for myself,” Strange says. He readily forms magic shields at his fists. Strange steps forward as an act of intimidation. “But you’re trespassing in this city and on this planet.”

“It means get lost, Squidward!” Tony taunts.

“He exhausts me,” Maw sighs. Cull speaks in a foreign language, untranslatable by the group. Maw nods, “Bring me the Stone.”

Cull speaks in the foreign language once again before dropping his giant hammer, dragging it towards the heroes.

“Banner,” Tony calls, “You want a piece?”

“No, not really, but when do I ever get what I want?” Bruce says.

“That’s right,” Tony says. Bruce attempts to bring out the Hulk, but he barely turns his neck green. Y/N and Tony share a look, then turn back to Banner. “Been a while. Good to have you, buddy.”

“You got this,” Y/N says, clapping her hands a couple times to encourage him.

“I just... I need to concentrate here for one second,” Bruce says, “Come on, come on, man.”

“Where’s your guy?” Tony asks.

“I don't know. We've sorta been having a thing,” Bruce says.

“There’s no time for a thing!” Y/N scolds.

“I know,” Bruce says.

Tony motions to Cull approaching, “That’s the thing right there. Let’s go.”

Bruce grunts, but can’t pull out the Hulk. Strange looks at Tony and Y/N, then Bruce.

Tony glances at strange, “Dude, you're embarrassing me in front of the wizards.”

“Tony, I'm sorry,” Bruce says, “Either I can't or he won't—”

“It's okay. Hey, stand down,” Tony says.

“Watch him,” Y/N says to Wong.

“I have him,” Wong nods.

Bruce sighs, “Damn it.”

Cull approaches the team, Tony’s nanotech suit forming around his body. A shield grows on one arm grows and a set of blasters. He blasts the alien back, Maw deflecting him and blasting him into cars.

“Where'd that come from?” Bruce asks.

“It's nano-tech,” Tony says, “You like it? A little someth—”

“There’s no time for this,” Y/N says. Maw creates a spike of earth that throws Tony into the air, and flies treesar the rest of the team. Wong summons the Shield of the Seraphim and Y/N stops those that are about to hit her.

“Dr. Banner, if the rest of your green friend won't be joining us…” Strange says. Strange teleports Bruce away from the fight. Tony rejoins the fight by pushing a car that Maw threw, Maw cuts it in half and remains untouched by the pieces that flew by.

“Get that stone out of here now,” Y/N demands. She lifts a finger and a car launches at Maw, who cuts it in half and sighs with boredom.

“It stays with me,” Strange says.

“Exactly. Bye,” Tony says. He flies through the objects Maw lifted in the air, Y/N trying her best to fly them out of the way as he goes. Cull’s hammer knocks Tony through a building and into the park. Y/N grunts and runs towards the alien who hits her with the hammer as well. She uses her powers to keep herself from slamming into the ground as Bruce runs over to Tony.

“Tony, you okay? How we doing? Good? Bad?” he questions worriedly.

“Really, really good. Really good. Do you plan on helping out?” Tony replies.

“I'm trying,” Bruce says, “He won't come out.”

Cull throws his hammer towards the two. Tony quickly shoves Bruce out of the way, but Y/N raises her arms to slam it into the ground before it could near them. Tony looks at her with a start and she sends him a wink in response. Tony shoots an energy beam that deflects off Cull’s shield, slicing down trees. Bruce gets close to being crushed, but moves out of the way in time. Tony is knocked down by Cull. The alien raises his hammer to hit Tony in the head, but is instead caught by Peter Parker.

“Hey, man,” Peter chirps, “What's up, Mr. Stark?”

“Kid, where'd you come from?” Tony asks.

“Field trip to MoMA,” Peter says. Cull grabs Peter and throws him out of the way. “What is this guy's problem, Mr. Stark?”

“He's from space. He came here to steal a necklace from a wizard,” Tony explains.

“Strange is getting his ass handed to him,” Y/N announces, lifting Cull into the air and slamming him back down. She reaches a hand out to Peter as the alien falls over and over.

“Hey Mrs. Barnes!” Peter says.

“Why does everyone call me that?” Y/N growls, running back towards Cull once Peter is on his feet.

“Kid, that's the wizard. Get on it,” Tony says as Strange flies above their heads.

“On it!” Peter says. Peter chases after Maw who’s following behind Strange.

“I can handle this,” Tony says, “Go watch the kid.”

Y/N nods and lifts off the ground, following behind the chasers. Maw retaliates by throwing a billboard at Peter.

“Not cool man!” Peter exclaims, untangling himself and continuing his pursuit. Maw bends poles to snag the cloak from Strange. Y/N gasps and falls down, using her powers to hold up Strange rather than herself. Peter scoops up Strange, but Y/N doesn’t catch herself in time. Her back hits the pavement and she groans, rolling onto her stomach.

Before Peter can escape with the unconscious Strange a blue light pulls ‘the wizard’ up. Peter grips a light pole to keep himself on Earth, but Maw pulls it out of the ground.

“Peter!” Y/N yells, lifting off the ground for the second time. She launches herself into the beam.

“Uh, Mr. Stark?” Peter says, “We’re being beamed up!”

taglist: @marcelaverzani @petersunderoos96 @sxdieeuwu @trash1ty @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @gabealien12 @heathens-takeitsl0w @moonstarsandsongs @hailmary-yramliah @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @bitch4bagels @marv-ells :)

( send an ask to be added//removed )

#mcu #marvel #james buchanan barnes #james barnes #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #winter soldier #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes blurb #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes masterlist #steve rogers #tony stark #peter parker

[whirlybirdwhat]

37 another wip please *q*?

OF COURSE

i love to rant about everything that i have in my notes fhdhsn WIPS are so fun!!

okay since my last wip was a zolu one ill give u one of the ones that isnt a zolu one

warnings for minor character death (literally had one scene in canon) and themes of revenge

(also long posts!! its on mobile so its not letting me cut it down)

So after sabos “death” in the asl flashback ace says something along the lines of he wants to be strong enough to get revenge for Sabo aka kill a celestial dragon. it seems to fade as he looks afte luffy and dadan tells him about the truths of the world and all esp when he meets the whitebeard’s but... what if it didnt

So ace is a new captain, one who has never been to sabaody - and the whitebeards are taking great joy in showing him the wonders of the amusement park and shopping grounds and giant trees where ace can literally jump around in like his childhood.

but the eventuality is that a celestial dragon will come through.

Ace and the Whitebeards are unlucky enough to be in the vicinity of one - and its no any celestial dragon that walks through that town.

Its st. jalmack.

the one who “killed” sabo

Ace doesnt lose it as marco drags him behind a street corner to avoid being seen by the dragons but it is a close thing.

He storms back to ship, utterly furious and starts packing his bags, and... puts on a shirt. He goes up to Whitebeard and gives a shocking request.

to denounce ace as one of his sons because what ace is about to do will put the entire family endanger.

(because the one thing Ace cares about, you see, is family)

Whitebeard is of course like fuck no son ur mine now and i never letting you go, and marco is like what do you plan to do?

And ace puts a hand on his tattoo - the one with the crossed out S - and says, “Im going to kill the man that murdered my brother just as he reached freedom”

because you see, in this au, ace saw what happened to Sabo. and hes never let that go.

The Wbs are of course confused - They thought Ace only had one brother. “Luffy?” they ask and Ace shakes his head. “Sabo” he says his voice breaking at a name he hasnt said since Luffy.

He doesnt tell them the story, but his resolve is clear. And the Whitebeards well - they can go hand to hand qith the admirals on the best of days. Ace was just being dramatic.

“We will help you” Whitebeard says, and gives the order for all but a small ship to sink to Fishman Island. The island already knows the wrath of the celestial dragosn after all.

Ace cries is thankful and all that and then gets to work. With Marco and Thatch they go to St Jolmack and kill him right on the streets, just lke he did to so many others, and Ace yells “thats for my brother”

They make their escape, admirals equal match for the commanders of the wb pirates and the world is thrown into Chaos.

Because somebody stood up to a celestial dragon and WON without consequences- cant they do the same.

Story goes on to Sabo getting the reveal from the newspaper about Ace getting revenge for him, meets up with him the same year luffy sets sail, gets yelled at for ace putting his fam in danger when he was still alive yadda yadda yadda and when it seems like the world has calmed down from the Revenge of one Sabo ...

Luffy does it again and while he still gets sent off the world is thrown into chaos with the Cief of Staff of the Revs openly siding with the pirates and completing the trip punching / taking out his own CD.

and lets just say zoro actually did kill that one CD instead of Bonney saving him just for the heck of it lmao.

uhhh thats all i have for this one and the tentative title is “the D. stands for Dragon puncher or something dhsjsh

dang i actually have to write this now lmao

#luffy #op #zoro #ace #marco #sabo #monkey d. luffy #whirlywrites #whirlywhat #whirlyanswers #opau #Dragon Puncher #one piece #ACE DECKS A CELESTIAL DRAGON THAT KILLED SABO WHAT MORE DO U WANT #aaaAahhh #the episode that i thought of this in was inspired by is 503 btw #anon #wips #portgas d. ace #whitebeard #thatch #long post

[ranekvilmas]

Uraveled (Chapter 1, Part 4)

One moment, two of staring at him with wide eyes, uncertainty at war within her. The stalemate shatters when he speaks--interpreted as a desperate plea for help, the druid does all she can think of: she smashes a paw into his head just hard enough to hopefully knock him out. Whether she succeeds or not, the resumed sound of footsteps drives her to once again grab hold of him and drag him into the city and towards his bakery.

The blow dazes him hard, fighting consciousness for a few moments before darkness claimed him. The fight is abruptly cut off as the mind hazes over, his body relaxing and able to be carried without any trouble or flailing.

Inside, his battle with the wolf did not stop. The pain and fighting of his own body eased the stains on him, having able to fight the serum that was still in his veins without the excruciating pain and mind-numbing ache. 

However, deep in the recesses of his mind, it was still chaos. The wolf's howl was a whirlwind of noise and a sensation of being pinned down, making it hard to fight back. But this was his mind. His body. He prevailed a decade and a half ago, and he could do it again. He drew in close his humanity, his self-discipline, the training and mantras he drilled into his mind when he broke free. Then came the parts of his mind he harbored, the things he cared about most in the world, and what gave him the best resolve.

Upon reaching the bakery, Blythe releases her shapeshifted form to try the door. Should it not give, she breaks the lock via sheer pressure in her ursine form. Ranek can bill her for the repairs later. The door was still locked, and under the force of a bear, it gave way.The runes and protective wards pulsed, but nothing came to effect. Once inside, she drags him up the stairs and to the bed, where she ignores her bleeding flesh and eye and focuses instead of locating rope with which to tie him down. And tie him down she does, as no chances can be taken with feral worgen.

(Art by twitter user Kagesatsuki)

Only once she's certain her work is satisfactory does the druid locate a surgical needle and thread within her pack and begin carefully stitching herself up. Her hands shake and her depth perception is even further ruined than usual by her dead eye lying closed tight, lashes sealed together with blood. The gash skips across to the bridge of her nose, a smaller slice in her cheek from the same swipe.

It's likely there, sitting in a chair by the bed and with needle and thread in-hand, that Ranek finds her when finally he finds control and consciousness.

As the fight went on inside the depths of his mind, his body twitched a few times as Ranek began seizing control little by little. He raged with the wolf, their howls pushing each other back until the Gilnean dug as deep as he could, opening doors in his mind he kept locked from everyone. He had conditioned himself long ago to harbor certain parts of his life away from the inner wolf, for this very reason. 

He remembered the druids that taught him control and inner peace. He remembered the emotions he shared with past lovers. He brought the affections and emotions he shared with Blythe, Quin, Valis, and the friends he had made along the way to the forefront, remembering who he was. He chanted the catechisms he memorized for years to tame the wild animal in his soul, slowly making the red rage bleed away.

About an hour passed when Ranek took a gasping breath, struggling against his bonds and looked around in a panic. "Blythe? Quin?" His vision was blurry from the concussion and mental strain. He looked around, blinking furiously with yellow eyes.

At his side, still seated, still working to stitch her many words, Blythe jolts slightly when Ranek wakes so abruptly. She offers him silence and a wary stare, every muscle tense, every instinct keeping her on high alert. He could spring at any moment, after all.

"I'm 'ere," she manages to reassure, her words hardly more than a whisper and so shaky they all but rattle between her teeth. "Are ye... you again?" Needle meets flesh once more, her ministrations having briefly paused to make way for the wash of fear.

What deft fingers remain twist and weave the stitching thread in her shoulder, tying it in a way that will help prevent it from tearing when she moves in a shapeshifted form. She keeps her blind eye closed, having done little for it aside cleaning the blood away--after all, eyes can't be stitched, and the slice through it is, or at least feels, disturbingly deep. Best not scare him with that immediately.

And so it's from the corner of her right eye that she watches him rather than her handiwork with the stitches.

It took him a few moments to slowly calm down against the restraints.  "What... how did we get here?" He asked openly, looking around his bedroom. "What exactly happened to me? One second I was fine, then... he shot me. I lost all control over myself, like I was back in Gilneas during the outbreak. I could..." Blythe takes a slow breath to explain, but pauses when he continues. She stares at him with her good eye slightly wide, her lips barely parted, then pushes herself to her feet--barely weak in the knees, somewhat stiff in the spine. She keeps her back facing away from him so he can't see the marks of his claws there--and holds out the hand not clutched around her half-finished stitching. "Rane'. Rane', stop. Slow down, lad," the druid attempts to soothe, her tone stern in an attempt to yank him back to the surface.

He snapped his head to her. "Gods... oh gods what did I do to you?" He tried to reach out to her, but the thick rope would not let him budge. His still yellow eyes bulged as he looked over at his love. "Gods... I hurt you again. I keep..." He pulled against the ropes. "What the fel happened to me!? Years... years of training and all the work I have done in the last year.. all undone." He sagged suddenly, despair and sorrow written all over his face as he grinded his teeth. 

"I' was a potion. I' wasn' yer faul'. I managed t' ge' th' dar' ou' o' ye an' sen' i' t' th' local alchemis' while ye were ou'. They go' back t' me a few minutes ago," she explains, settling back down in her chair with a grimace. "It's a potion tha' reignited th' curse temporarily in sane worgen... an' allows 'im an' only 'im t'... control them. I thin' 'e's been dosin' th' worgen in th' woods with i'."

Drawing a deep breath, Blythe runs a hand through her hair. "Ligh'... th' disappearances, th' mass gatherin's o' worgen in th' woods, th' insane 'owlin'... 'e mus' be tryin' t' perfec' i' by makin' worgen as... as experimen's."

"All I do is hurt you. And anyone I care about...." His eyes welled up, seeing her hurt once more tore at his heart. "Blythe.. I am so sorry.. You need to run away from me, one day I am going to get you killed." He struggled once more, trying to tear at himself. 

But back to the present. Blythe's one-eyed gaze snaps back to her love when she forcibly recenters herself on the needs at hand. "Ye cu' me up a bi', bu' 'tis nothin' bad, love. Don' bea' yerself up, aye? Once yer no' a threa' t' yerself--don' thin' I don' know why yer strugglin'--I'll untie ye. Fer now, ye ge' t' keep me company while I finish these stitches."

There was still a bit of haze in his mind, his rapid blinking and struggling against the bonds were signs of his unease of being so contained. Her words poured into him, helping to calm and get him to close his eyes to focus. The wolf was back to it's normal symbiotic relationship with Ranek, but the damage was done. The wounds suffered when the brand was destroyed were ripped open in places and it made focusing hard, not to mention the agitated wolf was not making concentration easy.

As she explained, her voice and his need of information kept his focus on her, anything to draw away from the darkness. 

As he looked her over, he noticed the closed eye, but before he could question, his hands curled into fists and a low growl came from his throat.  "He.... is experimenting? All those people..." He growled again. "Kill.. them.. All."

"Tha's... m' theory, a' leas'," the druid sighs as she stands. Hobbling feet carry her to the nearby mirror, exposing her torn back to Ranek, so she can inspect her eye. A click of her tongue, and she steps back to her chair, blind eye once again tightly shut. "I intend t'. M' wonder is... if'n 'e is experimentin', tryin' t' perfec' tha' potion, is 'e goin' t' sell i' t' th' 'orde? Make an army o' 'is own? I jus' don' know."

As the words left his lips, the wolf howled inside of him once more. He wanted to rend and tear, kill and eat. But this time Ranek steeled himself from the bubbling rage, taking a breath and mentally chanting the catechisms and mantras, holding the wolf down. 

Her voice once more brought him back to peace, his hand stretching to touch her fingers, as much as the rope allowed. "Just like your stomach.. I will never forgive myself for hurting you again. Please forgive me, love." He pleaded at her, the emotions and feeling flooding him as his eyes returned to normal. "Do not release me. I have control, but the concussion and tearing in my head.. I do not know how solid the hold is."

She opens her good eye, which she wasn't aware of closing, to stare at their woven fingers. With a sigh, she squeezes his hand. "There's nothin' t' fergive," she soothes, her voice soft. "Wha' can I do t' 'elp resolidify yer control?"

“I do not know, Blythe.” He said softly, sitting back on the bed and sighing heavily. But a small chuckle left his throat, looking up at the druid. He gave a weak smile at her. "I thought the first time you tied me up would be a bit more.... Sexy."

(Artist is unknown)

Her serious concern vanishes with snorted laughter at his jest, a bright, amused smile splitting her lips. She covers he face with her free hand as she laughs, only to wrench away and hiss when she barely puts pressure on her blind eye though the lid.

Her back made him wince, more guilt and anger rising in him. He strained on his restraints, growling softly at the thought of hurting her.But her laugh brought him back once more, giving her a small wink. But her hissing made him squeeze her hand. "Still beautiful, Blythe." Ranek listened to her, sighing softly. "Either way, it needs to be stopped. I want to help you, I want a piece of that bastard." His eyes blazed in her direction. "I want to pay back.." 

Another sigh, and a heavy breath. "But I am a liability to you, and this fight. More setbacks because I keep hurting you, putting you in danger." He squeezed her hand. "And we both know it is the truth. However.. I will not let it willingly happen again. I will seek a way to protect myself, Blythe." He squeezed her hand again, rubbing the nubs of her missing fingers. 

"As for the control, I just need time. My rune is drained again, and the mental wards are cracked, which will just need to be replaced. Plus.. with what I did to you, we both need to recuperate." He looked at her, eyes focusing on her molten gaze.

"Ye 'ad no control over wha' 'appened ou' there. Tha' potion could override even me, an' I don' 'ave th'... separa'e wolf tha' others 'ave. Maybe because I don' remember bein' 'uman." She returns every squeeze to her hand gently, watching him with that tired, careful half-gaze. "Jus' don' blame yerself fer wha' i' did t' ye. Yer no' a liabili'y, an' ye didn' 'ur' me."

Her words offered some comfort, his strain and anger beginning to fade as he took a small breath to relax. "I should have been able to resist it. I have been like this for over twelve years.. honed the connection to the wolf. I have a rune on my chest.. this damn thing has resisted a Void creature.. but one man undoes that with one dose. How?" Frustration bleeds from his voice, his free hand becoming a fist. "I will beat it. No matter what it takes."

With a sigh, the druid pushes herself to her feet once more and releases his hand. She steps to scoop up a loose flannel shirt she keeps at his home and pulls it on to hide her stitched back. "I need t' visi' th' nearby infirmary an' ask them t' check ou' m' eye. Avoid infection, see wha' they thin' I should do fer i', an' all. Will ye be alrigh' while I'm gone? Ye should ge' some sleep." While she speaks, she twists to face him, continuing to keep her damaged eye closed. Her remaining eye sets on his features, worry-filled and searching.

"Do not worry about me, Blythe. I will be here when you get back. I will contemplate what happened today, and work on communing with the wolf.. mend that fractured state between it and I." He gave her a confident smile and nodded. "See you soon, darlin'."

"Alrigh'. I'll be back within a couple hours, 'opefully. I've lef' ye yer enchan'ed stone so ye can contac' me withou' needin' yer 'ands. Jus' call on me if'n ye need anythin'," the druid states, then steps for the bedroom door.

"See you soon enough." He tries to wave, settling back into the bed and took a few calming breaths as Blythe left the house.

He decided to get to work immediately, closing his eyes and focusing inward. The wolf was still agitated and stalked aimlessly through his mind, the barriers he put up to keep it from roaming freely were shattered and had to be mended. 

To do so would take time, once more having to reach peace with the curse that manifested as the beast within. There had to be another unspoken agreement, Ranek had to exert that he was the alpha of the pair through force.

@theunfortunatedruid​ Mentions: @beautiful-beacon​, @irielle-firine​, @valishoneybee​

[skizmin]

the lantern room | l. minho ☼

⇝ Australia!Au: jeongin, seungmin, felix, jisung, hyunjin, changbin, minho, chan, woojin ⇝ Pairing: Lee Minho / Gender neutral reader

⇝ Genre: fluff, a little angsty tbh but its not bad at all. strangers to friends to lovers, lighthouse keeper and local penguin enthusiast minho!!

⇝ Words: 15, 416 (i know its adschjk)

⇝ Summary: Minho Lee was the local mystery boy. You didn’t know him, but you knew he looked after the lighthouse and fed the local penguins. That was until the storm.

⇝ A/N: vanta the cat based off of nathan the cat!! is my bias showing??? this is so much longer than my other ones im so sorry it’s just minhos so easy to write for n this idea i just kept unknowingly building on meaning it all takes ages to resolve ahbdbsjhgfd. very very special thanks to @briee-elle who beta read it for me and edited it and just saved my life basically!! ily bub

⇝ Music: here is the playlist i listened to whilst writing!!

No one really knows the boy that mans the lighthouse on your bay. They say his mother is sick, his father is someone out of the picture, they say he’s an only child with only an odd cat for company.

You went to school with him, he wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. He was nice, relatively smart and good at swimming from what others told you. What people found strange was the way he’d disappear at break times, and the way he’d reject any invitations to parties or simple hang-outs, also how he never seemed to attend any school excursions or camps. You hadn’t really spoken to him, Minho Lee that is. The opportunity simply never came up. But that didn’t mean you weren’t completely obsessed with him and his mysterious aura.

You felt immature, if you were being honest, at how enamoured you were with this boy who had never even glanced in your direction. No one knew, of course, how you would think of him often and wonder what he was up to, you were too embarrassed to confess to your friends about how the dark haired boy had swallowed your mind. Maybe you had been reading too many cheesy romance novels? You were always the one to reject any romantic aspect of the stereotypical mystery boy in the books, but it seemed different with Minho Lee.

You wondered where he went every lunch time, what he did when he was alone on those Friday nights you were attending a party, what he did on the nights where the ocean’s harsh wind thrashed against the windows of every house in the town, lulling you to sleep. Minho’s home was right next to the lighthouse (and, technically, neighbouring yours), probably getting hit with the relentless wind and sea sprays the hardest. As a child you used to think Minho lived in the lighthouse due to watching constant replays of Round The Twist on your Saturday mornings, and you wondered if he would be amused by that.

People rarely saw him outside of school. Sometimes people gossiping about the odd amounts of frozen squid he bought at the convenience store on a Sunday afternoon. You saw him quite frequently though, not that he knew, of course.

Your and Minho’s houses shared the same tiny cove on the cliff line your town edged on, alongside a few elderly couples that were enjoying their retirement. Often as the sun set you’d find yourself wandering down the poorly built stairs to the small beach past the steep cliff your house stood near. On these days where you watched the oranges and deep pinks roll over the horizon, you’d also watch Minho on the beach with copious amounts of squid in a large tin bucket, chucking them to the penguins that made their way from the ocean to their burrows hidden by the sand mountains that rose higher the closer you got to the cliff.

You thought it was ludicrous. Minho, the boy who no one knew barely anything about, spent his evenings building unlikely relationships with the penguins of your town by feeding them squid. What was more confusing was his black cat who followed him all along the beach, even wandering off to play in the water. A cat playing in the ocean? Minho had a more interesting life than you ever would.

Sometimes in the summer when the sun would set quicker than normal, you watched from your hiding place behind some sandbanks above sea level (acquirable by jumping over the railing of the wooden stairs down to the beach) as Minho darted up the stairs, leaving his cat and the penguins on the beach with the squid dumped out into a massive pile. He always returned within ten minutes, panting lightly as he jogged down the stairs, you smiled at these times, realising he’d forgotten to turn the lighthouse light on before he’d ventured down to the picturesque beach. You could hear, when he returned, his scowling reprimands to his cat who had gluttonously eaten most of the squid instead of leaving it to the small penguins that waddled further up the beach after realising there was no extra food left.

You thought, if anyone ever asked you why you liked Minho (not that they’d know enough to ask), you’d simply say you loved the way his accomplished smile would lazily spread its way over his face once he returned up the stairs a final time to head home, a hand grasping the handle of his tin bucket tightly and oddly thalassic cat leaping up two stairs at a time alongside him. You thanked whatever lords you could that he never saw you, you’d rather dive into a pool of slimy seaweed and swim in it for 4 hours than have Minho Lee think you were some kind of creep (even if you most definitely were one).

☇

It was a Wednesday night, a storm had hit and the rain pelted against the tin of your roof. You listened in a state of equanimity, shutting your eyes that were watching in a trance as the light beamed from the lighthouse every 7 seconds.

You heard the low hum of light thunder off in the distance of the ocean, smiling lightly. You’d always loved listening to storms, finding it fascinating that something so frantic and chaotic could be so calming to your senses. You very nearly fell asleep, leaning on the windowsill of your living room which was lit only by a warm lamp in the far corner, your parents on the couch reading their own novels due to the TV reception cutting off during the harshness of the storm. You would’ve fallen asleep, in fact, if a sudden banging hadn’t sounded from your front door.

At first, you and your parents thought it to be the storm, maybe a tree banging against one of your walls, that was until you heard the faint yelling that was very almost washed away by the howls of the wind. Your mother instantly sprung to her feet, padding her way quickly to the door. You and your father followed with haste, wondering what could be going on, scared of the things that could happen on this horrid night.

There were definitely calls for help as you reached your front door, the banging persistent. Your mother unlocked the door and tugged it open, your breath caught in your throat as you saw what was there.

Minho Lee stood in your doorway, one arm holding his panic-stricken cat and the other moving from its poise it held from banging on the door to wrap around the arm of a woman who stared vacantly through the house despite her furrowed brows. Minho’s hair was drenched, worry tracing all over his features as he stuttered to explain himself.

“Oh my god!” Your mother stated, immediately reaching out to the woman on Minho’s side to lead them into the house. Minho’s cat broke free of the boy’s hold, scampering into the living room towards the heater that was in there. “What happened?”

“I’m terribly sorry Y/M/N, we really don’t mean to intrude!” Your brows furrowed at the way Minho’s supposedly mother wasn’t looking towards your mum as she spoke to her. “The roof in our living room collapsed, Minho insisted on getting out. He’s worried sick about the roof in other rooms collapsing and—”

“Oh Mrs Lee! That’s awfully unsafe, of course you can’t stay there!” Your mother exclaimed, placing a comforting hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Honey, would you go get some towels? And some of Markus’ old clothes?”

Markus was your cousin, his family lived in the Netherlands although he lived with you for two years whilst studying a marine biology course at  small university nearby. His room was still set up the way he’d left it, aside from a few valued possessions he took back home with him once his course had finished.

Your father set off through the house, not saying a word as he was too shocked by the sudden situation.

“Y/N, sweetie, boil the kettle would you please?” Your mother asked you, turning to smile at you reassuringly.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. Tea or coffee, Mrs Lee?” You asked the woman, who smiled, still not looking towards you.

“Coffee with milk would be perfect, Y/N.” You nodded and your eyes subconsciously flitted to Minho.

You were taken aback once you realised he was staring at you, wet hair dripping onto the floor and nose red from the cold. His eyes looked curious, confused, maybe even skeptical, you weren’t sure. Intimidated by his gaze, you quickly turned on your heel and made a beeline into the kitchen.

Filling the kettle, then flicking it on, you processed the situation as you waited. Minho Lee and his mother were in your house, it was currently 11:14 PM and his cat was wandering around your living room. A storm had somehow damaged their home and Minho was too worried to stay there for the night. Okay, you thought, this was only slightly weird.

“I uh—,” a voice sounded it’s way from the entrance to the kitchen, you whipped your head around to see a sheepish looking Minho, towel laid over his shoulders. “I didn’t know you lived here.”

What was this? Minho in your home, muddy shoes dirtying your kitchen tiles, Minho talking to you like he’d known you forever. Your eyes went a little wide and your ears pricked as the kettle flicked off, sounds of bubbling coming from it and steam filling the air. You whipped your head back around, fingers curling into fists as you tried to figure out what to say.

“Uh. Yeah, I don’t know why you would.” You replied, occupying your hands by pulling cups from the cupboard above your head.

“I’ve been at school with you for as long as I can remember, I think I should at least notice if you’re my neighbour.” His voice sounded closer, you didn’t dare turn around. Your cheeks felt redder at the thought of Minho actually knowing who you are, it somehow made your slight obsession with him way more embarrassing.

“Here, let me make my mum’s one. She’s a picky woman.” Minho mused, speaking through your silence that you didn’t know you’d allowed.

He was next to you already, grabbing one of the mugs from the bench and brewing a coffee with odd steps. He poured the milk first, before the water, and when you nervously trailed your eyes up to his face, you noticed his lips mouthing numbers as he counted how many times he stirred the coffee. His eyes flitted to you and you looked away, continuing to make your dad’s usual order of black tea.

“My name’s Minho, by the way.” He murmured, seemingly growing less and less confident as you didn’t reply.

“I know.” It tumbled from your lips before you could stop it, and your back straightened in fear. Fear of what? You weren’t too sure, maybe of Minho discovering how often he plagued your thoughts even when you weren’t at school with him.

“Really? I don’t think I’ve properly met you though.” He said back, and although you couldn’t see, you felt him turn to face you just the slightest bit more.

“I’ve been at school with you for as long as I can remember, I think I should at least know your name.” You replied, reiterating his words from earlier before picking up both mugs and turning to the boy. “Shall we?”

He simply smiled and followed you out of the kitchen into the lounge room where your parents and Minho’s mother sat. You noticed Minho’s cat had curled up on the windowsill that you had occupied before Minho arrived, you smiled, making a mental note to pet the cat later on.

“Y/N! Minho and his mum will be staying with us for a little while, just until they can figure everything out.” Your father said from his place closest to the heater, smiling graciously as he took his mug from your hand.

“Sounds good!” You said, politely smiling at Minho’s mother who didn’t return it to you. You watched as Minho gripped his mother’s hand and dragged it towards the coffee he made for her, only letting go of the mug once he was sure her hand was wrapped around it tightly.

“Perfect. Y/N, could you take Minho to Markus’ old room? There’s some clothes on the armchair. And Minho, feel free to shower before you go to sleep if need be.” You mum said, smiling warmly at you as you nodded, awkwardly grabbing the clothes from the chair and passing them to the boy.

You lead Minho once more, out of the room and down the hall. Markus’ room was next to yours, the wood of his door frame still littered with pencil and texta drawn lines of your growing height since you were small.

“Uh, here you go. The bathroom’s right there too if you uh, need it.” You said, leaning into the empty bedroom to flick on the light switch.

“She’s blind, by the way.” Minho said, looking at you unsurely. “My mum. You uh-, you looked a little confused back there.”

“Oh.” You replied, letting the statement sink in. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”

Minho just smiled softly and shook his head, “That’s alright. I’ll see you in the morning?”

You nodded dumbly and stepped back as he made his way into his room, you opting to quickly brush your teeth before going to bed.

It was strange, talking to Minho Lee was strange. His voice sounded nice when he was tired, quieter than what you heard at school and just the slightest bit lower. You wondered what would happen tomorrow, if maybe you’d walk to school together or maybe you’d walk home together, too.

Maybe Minho Lee wouldn’t be the one you admired from afar anymore, maybe the thumping in your heart would remain constant as he would stick around, talking with you more often than you’d had thought possible.

☇

That morning, your family walked Minho and his mother to their home, checking the ruin from the storm and allowing Minho to collect his uniform and things for school providing nothing had happened to his room. The cat, Vanta as you had learnt his name to be, followed along behind you, ignoring the hole in the roof and travelling straight to the metal bowl near the laundry and meowing loudly. Minho sighed and fed the obnoxious cat before he got a headache from its ear piercing screeches.

You smiled at the cat, standing awkwardly in the living room as your parents assessed the damage.

“Can you see any photo albums anywhere? I think they were on the bookshelf.” Minho’s mother said, standing approximately five metres from where you were, nibbling on her bottom lip as your mother recited what was damaged.

Your dad instantly took towards the bookshelf that at fallen over once the weight of the collapsed roof hit it (“A tree feel on it,” your dad said after wandering outside for a couple of minutes. “It was completely uprooted during the storm. The baby red gum.”).

“We don’t need the photo albums mum,” you turned your head to see Minho walking down the stairs, school bag tossed over his shoulder and uniform thrown on messily. “It’s not like they’re important.”

“They’re beyond important Minho!” His mother insisted, emphasising her point with pointed movements of her hands. “Just because I can’t see them doesn’t mean I don’t know they’re embarrassing, you can’t escape them even if you tried.”

“Found them!” Your father called over Minho’s groan. You immediately rushed to your father’s side, gathering an odd five books in your arms and moving to place them into a box that centred the room.

“I’ll get my stuff after school.” The boy that clouded your thoughts was beside you, you found it annoying how suddenly he always appeared next to you. “Wanna go?”

You nodded, red crawling up your cheeks as you weren’t prepared to have him speaking to you so openly. You hugged your parents, telling them you’d come straight home after school, before taking off to follow Minho out of his dishevelled home.

“I just need to—, uh, you know?” He gestured vaguely to the lighthouse that towered over his home, and you smiled brightly.

“Can I come?” You questioned, wanting to see what it was like to scale the stairs of the lighthouse, to see what happened when Minho turned the beam of it off.

Minho tilted his head lightly, “You want to come?”

“Of course! I used to always wonder what it looked like inside.” You felt your nerves subside around the boy slightly, senses overwhelmed at the pure want to venture into the tall tower of white, to see what exactly went on inside.

Minho smiled at you, slightly lopsided and told you to take off your bag at the entrance, leading you towards the small, hut like entrance of the lighthouse. You did as you were told once you reached the destination, listening as he fumbled with the key in the lock and feeling the soft spray of just barely rain on your face, wind blowing hair into your face making you sigh and run your fingers through it.

A loud creak sounded from where Minho stood and you looked in slight awe as he pushed the large metal door open to reveal nothing but a minuscule hallway leading to the beginnings of a staircase.

“Whoa.” Is all you could say, following Minho inside as he reflexively began to scale the stairs.

Half way up you realised Minho must be magnificently fit to do this twice everyday without a break. Despite the fact you made your way up and down the stairs to the beach almost everyday, and walked to and from school everyday, your thighs were burning. What kind of muscle did Minho possess in his thighs to be able to do this so effortlessly all the time?

The stairs where flooding with light, provided by the occasional window that followed the spiralling steps. Scaffolding littered around the bends which you easily ducked underneath if it came to it, the metal stairs creaking quietly at random times during the climb. The gaps between each step showed just how high you were climbing, something that you could also notice as you saw a wider and clearer view of the ocean outside the windows than you’d ever had, the dark grey of the water crashing onto limestone cliffs into the distance with a spray of white, image slightly distorted through the specks of rain that covered the glass.

“You tired already?” Minho glanced over his shoulder to you, whose footsteps had become heavier and louder though you were only halfway up.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you huffed a riposte, embarrassed at the way he was seemingly unbothered but also knowing how to take a joke when it was made.

“Sure you don’t,” Minho slowed down on the stairs as they reached an end. “It doesn’t matter anyway, we’re almost there.” You sighed out of happiness as you hit the end of the climb, your feet subconsciously moving to take another step up causing you to stumble a bit.

Eyes searching around the landing, you didn’t see what you had initially expected from imagining the insides of a lighthouse. You were gazing out the larger window of the landing when your eyes flitted to Minho, who was pressing against a ladder to check it’s stability. Gaze wandering up, you saw light flooding in from the opening in the roof the wide-runged ladder was heading up into.

“You go first, that way if you fall it won’t be too catastrophic.” Minho turned to you, eyes meeting your wondrous ones. You couldn’t feel it but Minho’s heart skipped a beat at your awestruck glare. He’d never brought someone up into the lantern room before, no one except his mother on rare occasions.

“Luckily for you, Minho Lee, I know how to climb a ladder.” You retorted, feet already moving forward until you could reach out and grip the ladder with your hands.

“All good, then.”

Minho’s tone surprised you. His volume was low, sentence coming out in something that could only be described as a breathy whisper. He sounded roughly unfocused. You couldn’t bring yourself to turn and look at him, instead choosing to step up rung by rung into the light spilling from above.

Minho’s arms moved to hold the ladder in support once your body was far enough up, not wanting to make you uncomfortable with any unneeded close proximity. Once you crawled over the top of the opening and disappeared, Minho began climbing (taking a relatively shorter amount of time than it had taken you).

His head popped through the hole and his dark eyes immediately searched for your figure around the brightness of the room. Once he found you, his body still rising through the hatch, he smiled.

Normally, he would move straight to gaze out into the ocean, watching the waves crash against the cliffside and feeling it steady his heart beat.

You, however, had immediately gravitated towards the contraption in the centre that held the small bulb for the beaming light. Your eyes searching for an explanation as to how exactly it worked, how the light became so bright for the boats and ship-men to see.

“What d’ya think?” Minho said once he was on his feet, moving towards the contraption as well, though standing a safe distance behind you.

“It’s…” You paused, not really knowing how to describe it. You tilted your head and brought your fingers to brush the rust of the metal bars encasing the millions of layers of lenses that surrounded the tiny bulb. “It’s different. Different from what I thought it would be, at least.”

Minho laughed lightly, passing to the other side of the circular room to flick off the switch to the light.

“And what exactly did you think it would be?” He asked, moving to stand beside you as your eyes remained fixated on the light bulb.

“Oh, the usual. Haunted and full of curses like in ‘Round the Twist’.” You stepped back, turning to face Minho once you deemed there to be enough space between the two of you.

Minho laughed at this, eyes almost closing as his cheeks rose with his smile. “Of course! Bronson is my cousin, I’ll have you know.”

You laughed too. Somewhere in your heart, you felt at ease, knowing an internal question was answered and that Minho was amused by that, amused by you.

☇

“We’re doing a Maccas run if you wanna come along,” your friend beside you finally picked up their duffel bag which they brought today to prepare for a soccer game. “I’m hungry as fuck.”

“Nah man, I gotta get home.” You grumbled, kicking a stone along the gravel of your schoolyard once you started walking.

“Shit, sorry!” Your friend whipped their head towards you. “Did I keep you? I shouldn’t have asked you to stay!”

You shook your head and smiled. “Nah, it’s all good. It wasn’t that long.”

“Yeah, but still. I could’ve seen Miss García on my own.” The grumbles beside you made you smile before you playfully bumped your hips into theirs.

“I said it’s all good man,” your friend laughed, happily reciprocating the action. “Now get a fucking move on! Jamie is probably waiting at your car already.”

“Okie dokie. See ya tomorrow, yeah?” They called out, stepping backwards towards the student car park. You just nodded at them and waved as you turned off your heel and walked in the opposite direction towards the front gates of the school.

The day was still gloomy, a pale overcast with occasional bouts of spitting, nothing too extreme though unlike the previous night. When you arrived, a few head teachers were forcing some poor year sevens to clean up the mess of sticks and branches that had strewn their way across the school yard, moving inches at a time when a harsh wind broke through. You’d almost forgotten about Minho once you agreed to walk your friend to the science staff-room to confront their teacher about an extension on their most recent assignment (“She’s being a twat about it.” They’d told you, “It’s like she’s never fucking heard of a sporting life! Like, hello? I’m kinda representing the school here!”)

That’s why you were washed with a sense of overwhelming guilt when you turned a corner only to see Minho Lee leaning on one of the brick pillars that made up the entrance.

“Minho?” You called out, watching as his head snapped up from his phone, hair falling perfectly over his forehead.

“Oh! Y/N!” He smiled lazily, it was like an infectious disease and you couldn’t help but smile back. “I was beginning to think you’d left without me.”

“I uh—,” you stopped in front of him, waiting for him to lean off of the wall and start walking with you. “I didn’t realise we were walking back together.”

Minho subconsciously tried to match his steps with yours; left, right. Left, right.

“Oh, yeah, I uh— We should’ve clarified that, huh?” If you’d looked up from the pavement, you might’ve seen the hint of red splaying it’s way across his cheeks.

You hummed, and he supplied words for the nearly uncomfortable silence. “I would’ve texted you, but I don’t have your number. So, yeah.”

You felt it coming, the smile that spread itself wide across your face, not even slowing at your attempts to stop it. “Is this your weird way of asking for my number?”

“Don’t you think I should have it?” Out of the corner of your eye you saw the dark haired boy’s hands shoving themselves into the pockets of his pants. “I mean, I’m walking you home after all.”

Spluttering and with red crawling up your neck, you retorted with a bite. “You mean; we’re walking back to my home, which is also now your temporary home.”

“Ah, you got the message too?” He questioned, feet now avoiding stepping on any cracks that could be found on the pathway.

The message he was referring too, which you did receive, was regarding the damage to Minho’s house.

The roofing for the half of the first level not covered by the second floor would need to be completely replaced, as well as the common roof/floor of the first and second level would need to have some checks done and possibly some reinforcements placed in it.

Your parents, being the overly kind people they were, had immediately offered Minho and Mrs. Lee a place to stay, simply not allowing the small family to spend the high expense of the only hotel in town and stating that renting was too much effort for only 3 months. Your palms had sweated once you received the news, thoughts of Minho living in the same house as you were just terrifying. He’d see you every morning you woke up, he’d see the times you ate your food like an absolute pig, he’d even see your odd Milo habits (which included not mixing in the Milo at all, something that was extremely absurd to your friends).

“Yeah.” You breathed out. “I did.”

Minho hummed this time, not really knowing how to respond. You noticed his awkward aura and elbowed him lightly in the side, why did I do that?

“Welcome, officially, to the Y/L/N household, buddy.” Minho smiled at you after you said this, and just for a moment you believed this situation was normal. You believed this situation was okay.

☇

“Mum, you’ve got to be kidding me.” You heard Minho hiss (a poor attempt in being quiet, you thought) from the living room as you tiptoed down the hall on a Saturday afternoon. “You can’t just start talking to her again like that!”

You paused, almost backtracking in your subconscious need to not interrupt the tension happening in the room down the hall.

“It’s one phone call, darling. It’s not like I’m forgiving her or anything,” you heard his mum say back, voice calm and with significantly less venom than the tone Minho held. “I think this is quite the opposite actually, she won’t be exactly happy to hear the news.”

“She’s going to think we’re relying on her—”

“Which we are—!”

“That’s not the point I’m trying to make!” Minho exclaimed, voice rising before he immediately dropped his volume. “I don’t want to make her feel important, like we still need her.”

“We do need her, Minho.” His mother sighed. “We need her to live comfortably, and you should be grateful that she’s giving you a life I couldn’t.”

“Mum–” Minho winced, you could practically feel the tears welling up in his eyes from the hallway. “Mum, I’d rather be living on the streets with you than be living in a mansion paid by her.”

You heard the footsteps padding quickly from the loungeroom, you barely had any time to react before Minho was striding out into the narrow hallway of your single storey house. His body somewhat startled when it noticed your presence, not 6 feet down the way, and his eyes snapped to yours.

Your prediction was right, his eyes were glassy, he looked like he was about to burst out into tears. Why couldn’t it be one of your parents in the situation? Getting caught listening in on an obviously private conversation. Of course they had both been busy at work or running errands. He immediately stepped backwards in the opposite direction down the hallway than you, eyes widening before his body turned and sped it’s way down the hall and out of the house into the weather of yet another windy afternoon. Your feet instinctively moved to follow him, the exigency to apologise taking over your body.

“Y/N?” Your legs halted just as you passed the open doorway into the loungeroom. “Leave him, he doesn’t like people seeing him upset.”

You immediately backtracked, turning your head into heat pouring out of the loungeroom. “Mrs Lee, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” they lady said, smiling in your general direction after hearing your voice. “You did nothing, I’m sorry you had to see him act out like that.”

Your heart stilted lowly, you ached to go and find him and tell him you were sorry, that you were simply curious. You breathed in, stuttered, and smiled. Mrs Lee couldn’t see your smile, no, but she could hear it in your voice and feel it change the mood of the room.

“It’s all good, Mrs Lee. Should I make you a cuppa? We bought shortbreads yesterday, too.”

“Same as usual if you could, Y/N” She answered, before smiling brightly from her place on the couch. “And please, call me Minseo.”

☇

You had just finished setting the table, now leading a disoriented Mrs Lee—, or Minseo as she preferred you to call her by, to her seat as she was still quite unfamiliar with the layout of your home. Your mum chose to make a simple Tuscan dish, calling out to you from the kitchen.

“Do you mind going and finding Minho for dinner?” Your fingers clenched unknowingly around Minho’s mum’s arm, senses of doubt flooding your mind.

The lady you were leading must have noticed, because she leant closer to you to whisper by the side of your face. “Don’t worry love, he’ll have calmed down by now.”

“Where can I find him?” You asked, heartbeat steadying as you pulled out a chair and led Minseo’s hands to it so she could find her own way into the seat (as per her request, “I want to do everything I can do.”)

“He’s only ever in two places aside from home, the beach or the lighthouse. Hope you’re ready for a work out.” Minho’s mum cheekily joked, quickly placing a hand over yours in comfort.

“Thank you,” You murmured before turning your head and calling out into the general vicinity of the kitchen. “I’ll be back soon! Don’t wait up for us!”

You walked out of your front door shortly after that, only stopping to grab a coat, and you were greeted with the fresh smell of saltwater that floated along the chilly air. You decided not to go down to the beach first, figuring if it was this late (not late, 8:26PM actually) he’d be done with the penguins and the tide would scale too high for any lengthy walks along the sand. Your feet carried you towards the lighthouse, puffing in relief when you noticed the large metal door, that was painted in a peeling white, was left slightly ajar.

Hurriedly, you stepped inside, desperate to escape the harsh wind that broke through the fabric of your thick jacket. Peering through the hallway, fear struck inside your mind. It was dark, almost dungeon like even though the stairs definitely weren’t, and definitely didn’t, lead into any depths of the earth. You turned on your torch from your phone and began your climb, ignoring the chills that crawled down your spine at every light creak or howl of the wind outside. Your thighs began to ache, still slightly sore from the first time you’d climbed these stairs only mere days ago.

“Minho?” You called up the spiral case, hoping he’d hear and reassure you he was there. Alas, there was no response, so you kept scaling up.

Despite your best efforts with your torch, you stumbled nearing the solid landing of the tower after tripping on some scaffolding that lay there. You swore softly, regaining your balance and stepping out into the landing.

The ocean looked terrifying from this window, dark navy blue sky with only the moon to illuminate the way the waves violently crashed into the limestone of the cliffs. You turned your head away from the sight, suddenly only imagining how the tower might simply tilt and fall over into the unforgiving sea. The thought of being swallowed by the darkness of the water made your heart pound, but you were at least comforted by the way the light from the hatch up into the lantern room shone down onto the landing, lighting it significantly.

Wiping your palms wide and flat onto your jeans, you approached the ladder.

“Minho?” You tried again, but to no avail. You sighed, it wouldn’t hurt to check just to be sure.

Before you knew it, you were halfway up the ladder, head just shorter than half a foot away from peeking through the hole in the cast iron.

“Y/N?”

“Fuck!” You flew backwards, completely taken aback at the way Minho’s head suddenly appeared in the hatch. You didn’t even have time to register how cute he looked with his confused face, brows furrowed and lips slightly pouted.

Minho’s reaction was quick, quicker than he had appeared in the opening, even. His left hand immediately went out to grasp onto your elbow as his right arm hooked over the ladder to stabilise it.

“Shit! I’m so sorry,” he exclaimed, arm straining to help you back safely on the ladder. Your feet were still fastened to the rungs, but your upper body had leant back so suddenly that you very almost lost your balance, hands desperately reaching to grip the ladder which would have done no help. The ladder wasn’t completely fastened to the opening in the ceiling (floor? both?) meaning you would have simply brought the ladder down with you in your fall.

“Minho!” you almost shouted, heart pounding and pupils dilated in exhilaration. “You utter fuckwit!”

Minho’s eyes stared directly into yours for a few moments, examining them as he slowly dragged his arms away from you and the ladder. It was silent until he began laughing. Eyes crinkling and breath being sucked in through wheezes.

“Your fucking face!” He cried, leaning back from the hatch to allow you to climb through. “You should’ve seen it!”

“That could have been the last face you’d ever seen, Minho Lee,” You grumbled, climbing through the opening with ease. “If I died, I would’ve haunted you to immediate death.”

“You—, you were all ‘Fuck!’ and—” Minho did what he supposed was an impression of you. “—you just fucking fell! Who does that? You were on a ladder!”

“Maybe someone who was petrified of your ugly face!”

“Oh, come on Y/N. Be a little more original for my sake.”

“Oh, I’ll be original with threats if need be, Minho.” You said, eyes turning menacing and small smile creeping its way onto your face.

Minho raised an eyebrow, watching you as you stood up in front of him. “Hm? Is that so?”

“Y—yeah!” You were suddenly flustered by Minho’s mischievous gaze on you, his lips tilting into a shit-eating grin. “Watch it, or I’ll shove a skewer up your fucking urethra.”

It took a second for him to register what you had said, and what exactly it entailed. But when he realised, you laughed at the visible cringe that went through Minho’s body, “Too far! What the fuck?”

Soon he began laughing too, giggles falling from his lips at your response to his reaction. You felt his eyes on you whilst you were laughing, gallantry suddenly declining rapidly as you quickly composed yourself with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry,” You said, finally, eyes flitting to and from Minho’s attentive ones. “Dinner’s ready, if you wanna come down.”

The boy’s eyes followed your hands as they gestures vaguely to the ladder that disappeared down the hole. You became very aware of the room now, how the moon shone through some fast moving clouds sporadically.

“Oh, sure,” Minho seemed to have snapped out of his slight disorient. “I’ll uh—, I’ll go down first.”

Minho awkwardly walked by you before turning and stepping down the ladder without another glance your way. And when you climbed down the ladder, stumbling off the last rung with a state of clumsy, and Minho’s hands had moved quickly to tighten themselves around your waist, neither of you said anything.

Walking down the stairs, you felt a massive urge to turn around to Minho and apologise. Apologise for basically eavesdropping on his conversation with his mum. You stopped yourself with clenched fists, telling yourself that he wouldn’t appreciate you bringing up the episode when he was clearly in a much better mood. Your fingernails remained pressing into your palms all the way until you walked into the house.

“We’re here!” You announced, awkwardly leading Minho through the entrance and towards the dining room.

After serving Minho and yourself some food, you went to sit with your family who was animatedly talking to Minho’s mother about her decision to buy her home and the lighthouse that protected the boats travelling along the coastline.

“And yeah, my ex-girlfriend and I just decided to buy it!” You glanced up at Minho who shifted uncomfortably beside his mother, opting to lift up the jug of water on the table and top up his mother’s and his own glasses.

“Just like that?” Your mum questioned. “God, it would’ve taken me years to convince Y/D/N to buy that.”

“Yeah, I’ve always liked lighthouses,” Minho’s mother smiled fondly. “I would’ve found a way to live by one.”

A silence filled the table, awkward and filled only by the scrapes of knives and forks on the table. You could feel the question lingering in the air, your father probably twitching to ask it, but Minseo answered it before it was even verbalised.

“I became blind about,” she raised a hand to gesture a so-so movement. “Three years later? It was about 1 and a half years after we were finally able to adopt Minho here.”

You saw the movement of Minseo’s hand under the table to pat at her son’s knee, your eyes darted up to his face and only saw an uncomfortable smile. You downcast your eyes to your plate, Minho mustn’t like talking about his other mum at all.

“Do you like the lighthouse, Minho? I don’t think Y/N would remember to turn it on and off all the time.” Your mum queried, folding her arms over the table.

“Oh, I love it!” Minho said, straightening his back and smiling politely. “I took Y/N up there the other day, actually. Maybe we should start taking turns, just so I can have a break.”

He turned to you and smirked. You rolled your eyes as your parents and Minseo started laughing, amused by Minho’s proposal.

“What d’ya say, Y/N?” He asked, smirk turning slowly into a lopsided smile that you didn’t want to admit made your heart stutter.

Scoffing, you picked up your glass of water. “No thanks, I’d rather watch you suffer for a few more years yet.” You retaliated, smiling in accomplishment as Minho’s mum nodded in agreement.

You liked this; sitting down for dinner and conversing with people other than your parents so freely with laughter filling the table. It wasn’t uncomfortable. It was nice.

☇

“Twenty Questions? Like, the game?”

It was late the next day, you sat with Minho on the floor of Markus’ old bedroom after helping him bring a plethora of items from his own bedroom for safe-keeping. You’d sat down on the floor with a cushion from the armchair in the room whilst Minho finished sorting some things into boxes.

“Yeah, the game.” Minho replies to you, moving to sit across from you on the floor. “I’ve never played it.”

You eyed the way he pulled his legs up and rested his elbows onto them before crossing them over, laying his hands over his upper arms. It seemed oddly intimate, talking to Minho in the warm, dim light of this bedroom. Sitting on the floor with still damp hair from your shower, fingers playing with the cracks in the floorboards below you.

“You know,” you started, turning your gaze to the small Star Wars poster Markus had left on the wall. “Twenty Questions is usually just called a conversation in my books.”

Minho breathed out a short laugh, smile twitching up on his lips. “Alright then. Let’s have a conversation.”

You nodded at him, and he began. “Books or movies?”

“Depends on whether the book or movie is better.” You shrugged, not thinking too hard. “Favourite colour?”

You smiled when Minho rolled his eyes and scoffed, “Basic. Mint green.”

“Ooh nice! I like mint green.” You butted in, pleased with his answer. Minho smiled and nodded in return.

��Tell me a random fact about yourself.” He demanded.

“That’s hardly a question, Minho.”

“This isn’t Twenty Questions, though,” the boy in front of you pointed out. “This is a conversation.”

“Oh my god—”

“Come on, just tell me!” Minho said, smile spreading wider over his lips. Once again, it was infectious, spreading its way over yours as well as you pondered for an answer.

“Uh, I can do this weird thing with my tongue?” You stated, slightly unsure, before opening your mouth and performing a weird tongue dance.

“What the fuck? You pass, that’s creepy.” You laughed at Minho’s scandalised face.

“What about you?” You said, ceasing your fiddling with the floor to lace your fingers together in front of you.

“Me? I’m ambidextrous.” Minho responded with a proud smile, clearly happy with his gift.

You left his room at 11:30PM, telling him he should get some rest before school after hours of questions, answers and detailed elaborations. Despite your earlier fears, it was easy to talk with Minho Lee. You didn’t have a problem speaking to him anymore aside from maybe when he’d do something that would make your heart stall for a brief moment. You didn’t know that his heart stalled too, every time you’d nudge him to get his attention or when you said something that he found particularly adorable.

He liked it, speaking with you, even if he wasn’t exactly used to it.

☇

A week later, you were taking a bite out of one of the chips from the packet you were holding just as another friend came to your table to sit down.

“Since when were you friends with Minho Lee?” He asked, hauling his bag into the table to open the zip on it. “I saw you walking to school with him this morning.”

You paused from eating your chips, you hadn’t really mentioned the whole Minho situation yet. You weren’t ashamed or anything, maybe embarrassed at your friends possibly beginning to believe you had a massive crush on him (which, though you didn’t want to admit it, was becoming more and more true each day you spent with him).

“Oh. Our families are friends.” You said simply, it was true. Your family was close with Minseo and Minho Lee now that they had been with you for a few weeks.

Your friend, Alex, raised a brow at you. “Yo, really? How come I didn’t know?” He exclaimed, faux offence lacing his features.

“I didn’t know either,” another friend piped in. “I’ve never even seen you talk to him!”

“Well,” you started before swallowing the remaining food in your mouth. “He doesn’t really talk much at school. He’s nice, though.”

“I’ve never seen him at breaks, he was in my science in year 10, though.” Alex piped up, finally pulling out a container of god-knows-what from his bag. “He broke like, three whole test tubes.”

You smiled, thinking of Minho being so clumsy to drop test tubes that often. “Sounds like him.”

“Who does he sit with? Like, where does he even go?” The girl beside you asks, eyebrows furrowing as she tried to remember if she’d seen him at a lunchtime before.

“I don’t know, actually.” You answered, tilting your head as you thought hard too. “I’ll ask him after school.”

Your friend nodded and Alex spoke once more, something that looked close to a Thai curry filling his cheeks. “Sin’f whe’dib you wok’ome wiv’im?”

Some heads on your table turned to him, only to join you in laughing at his so-called sentence. “Excuse me, what?”

He just rolled his eyes and gulped three times before opening his mouth again, enunciating it very clearly. “Since when did you walk home with him?”

You laughed breathily once more at your friend before responding. “Since not long ago, really.”

“Do you like him?” A girl named Iniya called from the other end of the table, causing you to almost choke on the water you’d just started to drink. Great, this is exactly what you didn’t want to happen.

“Excuse me?” You shot back, eyes pointing in an accusatory glare. “Why does every guy I talk to have to be a guy I like, Miss ‘I’m-So-Sick-Of-Romance’.”

“Not all guys!” She said. “I wouldn’t ever let you crush on Rawiri.”

All heads turn to Rawiri, another one of your friends, who was struggling the break the ice of his orchy cup. He looked up with wide and confused eyes. “You know, Iniya, I don’t know what I’ve ever fucking done to you.”

The table erupted with laughter and the subject of you liking Minho was forgotten, without you even straight up denying it.

☇

“My friends asked about you at lunch today.” You said, taking a bite into the potato cake Minho had given you which was doused in a thick amount of chicken salt.

“Really?” He questioned, shoving the change from his purchase in his pocket (“I can buy my own potato cake, Minho.” You’d argued, attempting to shove a two dollar coin into Minho’s hand. He only scoffed, and replied in a mocking tone; “I can buy my own potato cake, Minho.”).

“Yeah,” you gulped down your mouthful. “You should come sit with us at lunch.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Minho shaking his head. “No thanks, man. I’m busy during breaks.”

Silence ensued as you battled whether or not you should ask the question that you were thinking of, but you chose to ask it anyway.

“What do you even—”

“Homework,” Minho cut you off before you even finished. “I do it during school, I don’t have time to do it at home.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

You tilted your head slightly. “Would you mind if I came with you while you did it?”

“Yes,” you saw Minho look at you, but you didn’t turn to face him. “You’d be way too much of a distraction.”

“Oh, come on!” You exclaimed, looking at him with wide eyes and lips parted in slight offense. “I am not a distraction.”

“You talk,” he retorted. “Heaps. I don’t know how I survive honestly.”

“Okay Mr ‘I’m-gonna-wait-for-you-after-school-everyday’!”

“Would you rather I didn’t?”

“That’s not what I’m saying!”

Minho let out an exasperated sigh before taking a large bite out of his potato cake. You looked away right after you realised you were staring at the chicken salt that remained on his lips, who does that?

“Fine. But I’m not gonna hesitate to kick you outta the library if you piss me off.” You fist pumped in victory before picking up your pace, basically skipping home with a proud face of accomplishment.

“Can you not run off?” Minho called down the street. “I’m kind of excruciatingly lazy, here!”

The next day, Minho led you from your shared society and culture class to the school library up at the 3rd floor of one of your school buildings.

“Hey Minho!” The librarian greeted, catching you off guard as Minho smiled and waved politely. You waved too before you realised Minho had quickly travelled away from you, already looking for a table.

He found an empty one, one painfully close to the Manga section of the library where a few edgy year eights sat, black nail polish on their fingers that flicked the pages of the book every few seconds.

“Sit across from me,” he directed, sitting down and swinging his bag onto the table. “I kinda need some space.”

You didn’t realise what he really meant by that until you saw just how seriously he was going to study. He pulled out his laptop and five different work books as well as two pencil cases (“One for pens ‘n’ stuff and the other for highlighters.”).

“Whoa.” You said, meekly dragging out your pencil case and your English book to begin your draft for an upcoming in class essay.

“Shush, I won’t hesitate to kick you out.”

You shut your mouth, eyes studying Minho’s dead serious expression as he stared directly at you. After a few seconds, you couldn’t help the fit of giggles that tumbled from your lips, causing Minho to roll his eyes and kick your shin under the table. You inhaled a large amount of air to calm down before apologising and getting a pen out from your pencil case.

You did your work without bothering Minho from then on. No noises, no erratic movements, nothing that would distract him in any way. You got a fair amount of work done, too, as you were almost halfway finished your essay draft. You’d suppressed some groans here and there, really despising the fact that you were stuck there doing an essay on Shakespeare’s ‘Othello’.

You and Minho had grown closer over the past few weeks. The air around you was no longer awkward and you could approach each other anytime without being overthrown by nerves and thoughts of ‘Am I annoying them?’ or ‘Are they too busy?’, thank god. Minho liked it a lot, actually. Having a friend, that is. He more of survived off of acquaintances, not really having the time to hang out with people outside of school when he wanted to spend his time looking after the lighthouse and, of course, his mum.

But he couldn’t help but smile at knowing he could talk to you about things that were just funny and relatable at your age, things he probably couldn’t laugh about with his mum. He liked it most when you approached him, smile gracing your lips and a snarky comment tumbling from them in some form of greeting that, even though it was most likely a comment to offend him, made his heart beat a little harder.

At first, he’d played it off simply as excitement of having a friend, of having someone close to his age that he could talk to whenever he wanted pretty much. But now? Now he had realised.

His eyes fell on you constantly as he was supposed to be studying, not that you noticed with your furrowed brows and nose buried deep into your copy of ‘Othello’. He wanted to say something to tease you when he noticed your phone on the table, image on the screen lighting up of google and the search bar filled with ‘synonyms for emotions’ and other various things. He just let out a small smile and trailed his eyes up to your face, pupils dilated as you read through a scene of the play, sometimes your eyes flicking back up a few lines once you realised you weren’t really paying attention to what you were reading. Your fingers tapped on the table silently and your workbook lay open to reveal two pages of messily written words that were crossed out and rewritten, little notes in red above some sentences and quotes from the play written larger than the rest of it, as if to draw attention to them over your actual analysis.

Minho could feel it, his heart beating a little faster, but it didn’t stop him from staring at the way your eyelashes splayed over your cheekbones whenever you blinked. He could feel it, the lump in his throat as he realised he really, really wanted to kiss you, even if he didn’t really know how.

He liked you, and he felt like an idiot for feeling that way.

Minho barely got any work done that day.

(“What do you mean I’m ‘too distracting’? I barely said a word!”

“Yeah, I don’t care. I’m going back to studying on my own.”)

☇

You were lying on you bed on a late Sunday afternoon, a whole month after the time you got denied to study with Minho after he deemed you an unfit ‘Study Buddy’, your phone in your hands as you scrolled through Instagram.

It was mid spring now, and the sun had begun beating down harder (not that you noticed, as the bellowing wind was still very, very prominent).

“Hey,” you heard a voice from your doorway and you tilted your head to find Minho standing there. “Wanna come down to the beach with me? I’ve got something cool to do.”

You sat up, already very prepared to tag along. “Are we feeding the penguins—?” You cut yourself off and clamped your mouth shut. Minho hadn’t told you about the penguins yet, and he most certainly didn’t know you knew about him feeding them almost every night when they returned from the sea.

“Huh?” He said, tilting his head at you and furrowing his brows. “Did I already tell you about them? Damn, I wanted it to be a cool surprise.”

You let out the breath you were holding and nodded. “Oh well, I still haven’t seen them yet.”

The boy in your doorway smiled at you. “Let’s go then.”

After throwing on some thongs and grabbing a coat to fight the wind, you followed Minho out of your home and along the dirt pathway that led, basically, to his house. You expected to go inside but Minho simply walked around the back, passed all the scaffolding and equipment left over from the renovation, and to a small shed.

“We’re gonna feed them some squid. I took it out of the freezer this morning,” He said, yanking the wooden door of the shed open. “But I still have to keep it in here because Vanta is a massive pig.”

You laughed lightly, already noting the way Vanta had followed you and suddenly appeared meowing in the doorway of the shed as Minho went inside and picked up a bucket full to above the brim with thawed raw squid. He began complaining about how heavy it was, but still defended the bucket from your hands and your words of ‘Just let me carry it!’.

Eventually, he caved, letting your hands grab at the handle and follow him whilst carrying it. He led you down the path that led to the stairs down the beach, Vanta scampering along behind you.

“They should be out soon,” he said, taking the bucket from your tired hand once you reached the bottom of the stairs. “The sun’s just about to set.”

You nodded, stepping out further into the beach over various cuttlefish bones and almost dry seaweed that lay strewn across it. Despite living right next to it, you weren’t too fond of the ocean. But with Minho placing the bucket down in the middle of the small beach and jogging past you to lead Vanta to the place where the water licked at the sand, kicking off his thongs on the way, you felt a wave of contentment wash over you.

“What the fuck even is your cat?” You called out to Minho, leaving your thongs next to his as you walked down to where Vanta was leaping around in the water.

“I have no idea,” he mumbled, watching her splash her paws together in the sand under the thinnest layer of salt-water. “It’s fucking freezing in there.”

You stood there for 20 minutes at least, laughing at Minho’s odd cat before noticing some penguins swimming into the shore just a little while up the beach. Minho smiled brightly, running to grab the bucket of squid, sand kicking up behind him a little bit as he stumbled.

It was still just barely light out, pink-turning-purple slowly descending over the horizon. It was still light enough to watch Minho wave you over, telling you to walk gently, slowly as you got closer to the tiny pack of penguins.

Although cautious, many weren’t too phased by Minho and your presence, choosing just to slowly waddle past you. That was when Minho nudged you, telling you to copy him as he grabbed a handful of the squid and tossed it in the general direction of the penguins.

By this point, Vanta had realised what you were doing and she ran over, startling some of the penguins as she picked up some of the squid.

“Goddamn pig, I swear.” Minho whispered to you, smiling as you reached towards the bucket and flung a handful of the squid to roughly the same place Minho did.

The penguins were flooding in by now, and the bucket was nearly empty as Minho’s and your throws became more and more generous. Minho let you have the last toss, laughing as you dramatically threw it into the air, watching it scatter over the sand near where the penguins were.

Minho’s eyes set on you. Your face illuminated by the last glimpses of purple peeking over the vast sea, and his heart leapt into his throat. Ah, he thought, this is what I’ve been missing out on all these years.

“Come on, let’s go.” He bumped his shoulder with yours. “I’d rather not have my hands smell like squid for much longer.”

You nodded enthusiastically, turning around to go and grab your thongs.

“Oh shit!” You laughed once you realised both yours and Minho’s pairs were painfully close to the rising tide, probably minutes away from being washed out to sea.

Minho laughed, coming over to grab his pair in the hand that wasn’t holding the bucket, and you both climbed up the three flights of stairs to the pathway that would lead you home. You talked Minho’s ear off on the way up about how cool that was, and how adorable those penguins were. You even threw in an idea about how you could turn it into a tourist attraction and earn a shit-tonne of money before quickly rejecting idea, shutting it down with an ‘Exploitation of animals isn’t cool. They might get super anxious!’.

Minho could wipe the smile off of his face, all the way to your kitchen even as he ran some warm water and you squirted some foaming soap into his awaiting hands.

Your mum came in, checking the food that was brewing on the stove in the kitchen and smiling at you fondly.

“Where did you guys go?” She questioned, lowering the heat that flared up on the undersides of the pot.

“Just down to the beach,” you turned and smiled at her, soap lathered over your hands. “Minho showed me the penguins! We fed them!”

“Really?” Your mum raised her eyebrows, turning to Minho who smiled sheepishly. “That sounds amazing!”

“Yeah, Y/N seemed to like it more than I did.”

“They were so cute! I’ve never been that close to them before and—” You let out a small sound to emphasise just how adorable they were, and you missed the way Minho looked at you fondly from his place next to you.

Your mum smiled before telling you you were eating fajitas for the night, adding on that the family wasn’t going to sit around that table because she was too lazy for that. Your family rarely sat around the table until the Lee’s came, opting to just eat dinner in the loungeroom or have you take your food to your room to eat whilst you studied.

You smiled and nodded at your mother, rinsing off your hands before pulling out some plates from a cabinet and beginning to make an abundance of food with Minho helping.

“Maybe you guys should go and eat up at the lighthouse? That’d be cool, wouldn’t it?” You looked at your mum skeptically, only to find her smiling quite genuinely. With that, you turned your head to face Minho, practically begging him with your eyes.

“Shit—!” He exclaimed before quickly shutting his mouth and apologising to your mother for swearing. “I forgot to turn the light on!”

Minho’s eyes were wide and you laughed at him, shoving the plates into his hands. “You go up first, I’ll come up in a bit with some water ‘n’ stuff.”

Minho nodded at you graciously, asking you to also possibly bring up his jacket with you. “Yeah, sure. I’ll be up in ten!”

After that, Minho was off rushing out the door and you were jogging down your hallway to find a spare backpack. After finding one you quickly shoved in a couple of blankets and a big water bottle. Your mum came up behind you and shoved in a packet of double coated Tim Tams.

“Minho’s a nice boy, don’t’cha think?” She said to you, smiling as you zipped up the bag and reached for Minho’s coat that lay on a nearby chair.

“Lay off it, mum.” You knew she was just teasing, probably had noticed your blushy cheeks from earlier (which most certainly weren’t because Minho smiled at you so wide his gums showed).

Saying goodbye, you walked out of the house, turning on the flashlight of your phone and wandering out towards the lighthouse. You tilted your head back, looking up, and smiled once you realised Minho had already switched the light on, the top room glowing brightly every seven seconds.

It took you a shorter amount of time to scale the stairs this time around, after doing it so often lately of course. And once you climbed up the ladder, Minho was waiting for you with half a fajita stuffed into his mouth. He tried to greet you but it obviously didn’t work out as it only came out in a mixture of muffled sounds followed by laughter followed by him almost choking on his food.

You smiled as he struggled to swallow the massive bite he’d taken out of his fajita, amused by his dumbassery. He gasped for air once he swallowed and gestures for you to sit down with him, shoving your plate towards you.

“Took you long enough,” he said, reaching into the bag you’d dropped in front of him to pull out the bottle of water. “Your food almost went cold— oh, fuck yes! Tim Tams!”

You laughed again and he turned to you whilst unscrewing the cap of his bottle. “Go on, eat up!”

You did as he said, stuffing your face with food as he recited the story of the last time he’d come to chill up here and how he fell asleep, giving Minseo a heart attack in doing so. Listening to Minho talk was easy, he jumped from one story to another with ease and seemed like he didn’t even need your input to keep going.

“—And so yeah, mum’s pretty proud of her–, I mean, our culture so she wanted to adopt a Korean baby too. Even gave me a Korean name which is sometimes a bitch because the majority of what I get at school is ‘Minno’ and—” Minho looked up to you from his empty plate and realised you’d also finished eating, and were just sitting there with your cheek in your palm as you listened to him speak. “Shit, sorry, I’m rambling.”

You shook your head. “No, it’s fine. I like it actually.”

“Really?” He asked, self-convinced you were lying to make him feel better.

“Yeah. I’ve always liked listening to people talk,” you said, reassuring the now timid boy. “It’s comforting.”

“How so?” He queried, offering you the bottle of water you packed and pulling out the Tim Tams from the bag.

“My cousin, Markus,” You said in between gulps of water. “He used to have friends over a lot and I’d always fall asleep when they were talking loud as fuck in his room. Ever since, talking has just been something that I liked listening to.”

Minho nodded, staring into your eyes with a smile. “It’s a good thing I like talking, then.” He commented, biting into a Tim Tam.

You hummed in return, picking a Tim Tam out of the packet and biting into it as well.

“You know,” you glanced up at Minho once he started talking again. “I never really used to care for, or like, talking.”

“Hm? Why’d’ya like it now?” You tugged out a blanket from the bag on the floor, wrapping it snug around your shoulders.

“I just–, never used to have friends I guess. Until that dumb tree fell on our house and I met you, that is.” Minho shrugged dismissively, but you saw the red crawling up his neck at his confession. “I think I just have a lot of stories to tell that I haven’t told before.”

“That sounds about right.”

There was silence for a while, and you turned your head to look at the gleaming light of the lighthouse, visibly cringing when it shone due to the pure brightness of the concentrated beam.

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“I sorta—,” Minho’s voice shook a bit and you tried not to notice the red spreading over his face to save the poor boy the embarrassment. “I just wanted you to know that I like being friends with you.”

Your heart stalled before beginning to beat erratically. You knew it wasn’t a big deal, that Minho likes being your friend, but you couldn’t help but feel giddy about it. Your ears pricked as he continued before you could respond.

“You always listen to me say dumb shit and put up with me being sorta edgy, I guess. You don’t even care about how weird my family is and for some reason, Vanta likes you more than she likes me, which would totally not be okay but it’s sort of okay because it’s you.” Minho’s fingers intertwined with each other out of– nervousness? Embarrassment? You didn’t know. But you did feel the sudden urge to untangle them and hold his hands in your own.

Red started appearing brightly on your cheeks, but Minho was staring at his clasped hands and didn’t notice. You saw the way his nose sniffed a little bit and his top lip protrudes more than usual because he was looking down. You really, really wanted to kiss him.

“After my mums old carer retired, I sort of lost contact with my friends to look after her. That’s not a complaint; I like doing it, but like—. I don’t know, it’s pretty cool that you’ll hang out with my mum and me and you try really hard to help her without being overbearing about it.”

God, he puffed his cheeks out a little and took a small glance up at you before flitting his eyes out of the window towards the bush-land opposite the sea. You just really wanted to squish his cheeks together and kiss him and see his blush up close, right in front of your eyes.

“Not to mention, you’re just really cool. You follow me up this dumb lighthouse and come feed penguins with me and walk with me to and from school. I guess I’ve just never had a friend as close as you, and I really—”

Fuck it.

You leant forward at a lightening speed, pressing your lips to Minho’s and effectively cutting off his little speech. Your stomach swooped excitedly, though it wasn’t even a proper kiss. You simply pressed your lips to his for two seconds before pulling back with wide eyes and pressing a hand to your mouth in shock.

Minho, at this point, was bright red. His cheeks were burning and he felt slightly dizzy as he looked at you with eyes that mirrored yours. His heart was beating beyond fast, his little monologue long forgotten because, holy shit, you’d just kissed him.

“Fuck.” You started, taking the blanket off of your shoulders and beginning to shove it into your backpack whilst avoiding Minho’s eyes. “I’m so sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry Minho that was really uncalled for.”

Minho couldn’t respond, his tongue simply would not move and lay in his mouth limply as he watched you pack up some things.

“I’ll go down first and we—” you huffed out a breath, beginning to stand up. “We can just forget about it, yeah?”

“Wait!” Minho’s body finally registered his brains signals as his hand reached out to grip at your wrist, tugging you back down to sit in front of him again. He didn’t continue until a few seconds after, causing your anxiety to scale up quickly. “You just took my first kiss.”

God, way to play the guilt card Minho. “Fuck, Minho. I’m so sorry, I’m an idiot and you can beat me up if you wa—”

“Can you take my second kiss, too?”

You paused, you hands shaking slightly out of nerves and your head spinning as you tried to focus solely on his face. Did Minho Lee really just say that?

“Huh?” Was the only thing you could say, panic swirling through your mind.

“Can you kiss me again? I’d kiss you but I don’t really know how and—”

You moved forward before you even knew it, hands crashing onto Minho’s knees and lips crashing to his. It was still for a moment, neither of you moving until you realised you were the only one with the slightest knowledge or experience, even if it was just a slightly buzzed kiss at a party when you were 16. You breathed out out of your nose slightly before tilting your head and pulling back the tiniest bit. You could feel Minho’s small pant over your lips just before you leant back towards him, tilting your head slightly more.

It was awkward and full of hesitancy, but when you pulled away Minho only sat closer and leaned towards you to kiss you again.

And again.

And again.

With each new kiss grew more confidence, smiles and small giggles escaping both of your lips whenever you bumped noses with one another. Your ministrations matched up with his after however many tries and Minho’s hands lifted from where they were carefully caressing your arms up to cup at your cheeks and press forward a bit harder.

You knew you were bright red, and your mind swarmed with thoughts and words: Oh my god, Minho’s lips were so soft. Oh my god, the way his thumbs brushed over your cheekbones. Oh my god, Minho was kissing you. Oh my god, Minho was kissing you. It felt like a long time after a millennium when you pulled back, forehead pressing to his and nose brushing his affectionately.

Despite the way your heart had initially thrashed in your chest and the way your blood had rushed through your body with pure adrenaline egged on only further by Minho’s gentle and hesitant movements, despite all that, it was a calming thing kissing Minho. After a while, your heart slowed down to a low thumping beat and your fingers, which had fisted themselves around Minho’s t-shirt, uncurled themselves to splay across his chest.

You felt it under your fingertips, the shudder that travelled through his body once you pushed your hands upwards onto his shoulders, hugging at the base of his neck.

You didn’t talk about it when you finally parted once and for all, sleep heavy in your minds as your gentle kisses to each other had lulled you both into some kind of trance. Simply, you packed your things with tired smiles and travelled the long way down the stairs and out into the slight chill of the early springtime air. Minho walked closer to you than normal, assuring your sides at the very least brushed up against each other with every stride.

Nothing was said, even as Minho smiled at you so softly as you walked backwards into your bedroom, returning the smile before letting Minho pull your door closed behind you and walking into his room as well. You fell asleep relatively easily, which you found amusing, seeing how often you were kept awake at night in the past, blush on your cheeks as your subconscious always led you to thinking of Minho.

Minho. You’d kissed Minho Lee that night.

Minho, on the other side of the wall, lay in bed with a dumb smile playing over his lips. You’d kissed him, more than once. God, the day he forgot how your lips felt pressed against his would be the day he died.

Despite the red dancing over his cheekbones, he fell asleep quite easy too.

The quicker I fall asleep, he thought, the quicker I’ll be able to see them again.

☇

That morning, you woke up with a bundle of nervous energy. It was 7:30, you decided to shower quickly and darted into the bathroom, avoiding any confrontation with Minho Lee just yet.

You walked out of the bathroom once you were done and dressed, only to walk into the kitchen to find Minseo and Minho sitting at your table eating granola and yoghurt.

Minho looked up at you and gave you a sly grin before looking back down and shoving another spoonful of the granola into his mouth. Charming.

“It’s eight ten guys,” your dad said as he walked out from the kitchen, passing you a slice of vegemite toast to eat on your way. “You should get going.”

“Sho’fink!” Minho said, voice muffled as he shovelled a few last spoonfuls of food into his mouth before standing up and hugging his own mum from over her chair.

“Later, ma!” He fare-welled her before gripping his backpack and swinging it over his shoulder, walking down the entrance hall and out the front door before you could even catch up.

“See you this afternoon!” You called into the vague area of the kitchen, hurrying to the front door to reach Minho before he got too far.

Once you caught up with him, it was pretty much silent. You didn’t want to bring up the happenings of last night but it seemed he didn’t want to either and now you were both stuck whilst reluctantly thinking up game plans on how exactly to bring it up. A huff sounded from next to you and you looked towards Minho, he walked beside you whilst absentmindedly kicking some stones on the pathway. He looked really fucking pretty, it was sort of unfair. His hair was a bit of a mess, probably your fault for hogging the bathroom that morning but you didn’t care because the little flicks in every direction just looked so freakishly adorable you were actually scared of what it was doing to your heart.

“You don’t get to stare at me,” he suddenly spoke, snapping you out of your reverie. “It’s making me nervous.”

Quickly, you snapped your eyes towards the ground and sped up your pace a little bit. Minho didn’t need to know you stared at him but now he certainly did and it wasn’t fair. It was even more unfair when he laughed from your side and you felt a hand gripping onto yours loosely.

Oh. Minho was holding your hand. Minho was holding your hand as you walked to school together. Hand. Minho. Minho’s hand wrapped around yours. God, what the fuck was happening?

You were blushing so hard, the feeling of whatever Minho had induced inside of you had come crashing so fast and so thick that your head rushed and you suddenly felt light-headed. You couldn’t even look at the boy, he probably had some kind of shit-eating grin and teasing eyes. Minho felt lucky you weren’t going to look at him, very lucky indeed.

His stomach was erupting with nerves, was this okay? Was he holding your hand right? Was his hand sweaty? Did you mind it? The questions flowed freely through his head and his head pounded in his chest. God, why did this have to make him so tense.

You on the other hand had only just managed to pick up the courage to tighten your grip in return to Minho’s hand in yours, giving it just the slightest squeeze. Minho felt a million times better after that.

You said nothing else on the walk, simply awkwardly looking around as the morning sun peeked through the blooming trees. The both of you didn’t want to let go, but finally dropped each other’s hands upon dawdling through the gate, Minho letting you go to your friends. His hand felt warm still, and he loved the feeling, watching you as you turned a corner into the area in which your group hung out. Jesus, he liked you so much it was incredible.

You held hands on the way home too, this time you snatching his hand as you left the school. He smiled at you and said hello before re-adjusting your fingers to fit them between his own. At times, he’d notice his grip had loosened whilst he paid attention to the story you were telling of your sub from your earth and environmental class, when he noticed this he tightened his fingertips onto the back of your hand with a firm embrace.

He thought, with a smile, that he could hold your hand forever.

☇

It had been, officially, three days since you’d kissed Minho, and he’d responded largely in your favour.

You hadn’t kissed since; though you’d wanted to, but the amount of affection in whatever relationship you shared had multiplied greatly. You believed even your mum had noticed the shift in your attitude around each other, catching her moving to whisper into Minseo’s ear whenever Minho decided to give you a heart attack and do something simple like fixing your collar before your walk to school. Maybe it wasn’t just you that had caught the tender look in Minho’s eyes when he did so.

Today, a Wednesday, the boy that was living in your house had been particularly clingy. Your mum hadn’t mentioned it to you, but you saw the meanings behind her amused pointed looks when Minho, instead of asking you to move like a normal person, brought his hands up to gently grasp your middle and shift you softly to one side. You’d grown accustomed to his little ways of showing affection, like the way he ensured his leg was bouncing up next to yours when you sat down next to each other on the couch, as if he was assuring you he was there. Or even the way he made sure to supply you with whatever you needed, like when you asked for a pen and he gripped your hand and spread your palm open himself before putting the damned thing in it. Honestly, just hand the pen over, Minho.

Anyway, you were up in your room, sitting cross-legged in your bed, studying for an upcoming French test with Minho (who insisted on helping) sitting in front of you with flash cards.

“I don’t want to do this,” he groaned, tipping back his head in dissatisfaction. “You’ve got all of them right, anyway!”

You rolled your eyes, taking the flash cards from his hands. “I told you, you don’t have to help me!”

“But I want to help you!”

“You literally just said ‘I don’t want to do this’.”

“Yeah, because this is boring!”

You shook your head at the boy in front of you before dropping your head down to shuffle through the cards again. “You’re incredibly dumb, Minho Lee, you know th—?”

Minho leaned forward and placed his hands onto your knees, fingers spreading over them before you felt the press of his lips against the crown of your head.

He sort of lingered there for a while before pulling back and sitting comfortably again. You slowly raised your head and met his eyes, they were cute and crinkled as his cheeks rose with his giddy smile.

“Let’s talk for a while,” he offered, already closing your French book. “You’re gonna ace that test anyway.”

You nodded dumbly, still slightly dazed at his genuinely fond action. Gripping onto your workbook, you reached back and placed it onto your bedside table along with your pencil case and badly shuffled flash cards. Once you turned back, Minho was already beside you and leaning back on your pillows.

“Tell me about your day?” He asked, shifting down a bit lower so he was more comfortable but looking at you nonetheless, neck probably craning uncomfortably at the angle.

You mirrored him, scooching down lower so your shoulders were pressed together. “Nothing much happened really. You know that Jamie Nyombe kid?”

Minho nodded, picking up your hand and pulling it back onto his chest to fiddle with your fingers.

“Well he choked really bad on his choccy milk and started crying, it was really funny.” You smiled, remembering how he choked from laughing at another friend’s joke. “But that’s about it, how about yours?”

“Hm,” Minho started, ignoring the shiver that went through your spine as he played with your fingers. “I don’t do much at school. I just sat there and missed you, then came home.”

You couldn’t help the blush that spread over your cheeks, what exactly was it with Minho being so uncharacteristically bold today? “Missed me, huh?”

Minho giggles a bit, chest moving underneath your hand. “Yeah, and my mum too.”

You thought back to earlier that day when Minho and his mum had sat in the loungeroom alone, talking about something that spread tension throughout the whole house and no one else dared to interfere with. There was no yelling or anything of that sort, just a lingering feeling of a serious conversation.

“How is your mum? You guys talked for a while this afternoon.” You questioned, bringing the topic up softly.

“Oh, she’s fine. We were just talking about her ex girlfriend.” He grumbled with a little sigh. “She’s a real annoying twat, that woman.”

Your eyebrows raised at his sudden hostile language. “How so?”

“She left me ‘n’ my mum because she couldn’t handle with mum being blind,” you couldn’t see it, but you felt his eye-roll. “The bitch still thinks she’s entitled enough to be my mother because her millionaire ass pays for most my stuff.”

You didn’t really know how to respond, instead processing the information because you knew Minho would continue anyway.

“I mean, I don’t object it because free stuff is free stuff, and mum can’t work so it’s nice getting some extra cash here and there.” He explained, ceasing playing with your fingers for a moment before continuing. “But she’s paying for the renovations for the house and wants us to stay with her until they’re finished. Says ‘It’s the least she can do’. Like, fuck off.”

He continued on, rambling and rambling about this lady you’d never even seen before. In the back of your mind you registered how the rest of the town thought Minho had a father and not a second mum, who wasn’t even his mum at this point, but that thought quickly dispersed once Minho finished talking.

“Fuck. That was a lot,” he turned his head to yours which was facing the ceiling, eyes closed in relaxation. “I’ve never talked about her to anyone before.”

You smiled, opening your eyes. “She sounds like a real bitch, so I’m glad you did.”

“Yeah, me too.” Minho let out softly before speaking louder in realisation. “Shit, you’ve got your exam tomorrow. You should get some sleep!”

Before you could even protest he was climbing out of your bed like a child on Christmas, stretching his arms a little before turning to you and muttering a quiet goodnight and turning to leave. You climbed out of bed too, quickly gripping at Minho’s wrist before he left.

“Wait!” You said, tugging him back so he was in front of you and leaning towards him. You shakily pressed a kiss to his forehead, mind swimming with nice feelings for the black haired boy. “Thank you for helping me study and talking to me.”

Once you pulled back, Minho smiled softly before backtracking out of the door.

“Nigh-night, Y/N.”

“Night, Minho.”

☇

Three weeks. Three whole weeks of tiptoeing around the house and holding hands on your way to school. God, had you tried so hard to kiss Minho again. The times he noticed you leaning in he’d pull back slightly and smile teasingly at your expression. You’d think he didn’t want to kiss you, didn’t like you back or something-or-other but he’d always lean back towards you to peck anywhere on your face that wasn’t your lips.

You figured you could survive, but then suddenly Minho was packing up and leaving your house to return to his own, and you realised you’d see him less and less and god, just fucking kiss me Minho Lee!

“I’ll grab you in the morning,” he said as you walked out of his front door after helping him carry the last things over. “You’d better be ready for school.”

You nodded, it was your last week of classes for the term and you’d realised he wouldn’t walk you to and from school for a whole two weeks. You felt really worried about how little you guys might see each other, as you’d grown so accustomed to his presence and absent minded touches.

In the morning, you were ready earlier than usual and even opted out on meeting Minho halfway. You saw him as he walked up to where the paths forked into one and waved.

“Miss me that much, huh?” He’d teased, already naturally linking his fingers with yours.

It was normal now, walking to school like this. Your friends often made fun of you for your relationship (whatever that relationship might be) with Minho Lee, mocking the way you blushed when he grabbed your hand at the gate at the end of the day. Minho promised to come meet your friends soon, and it oddly felt like introducing your boyfriend to your parents though Minho wasn’t your boyfriend and your friends certainly weren’t your parents.

“Wanna come study with me today?” Minho asked once you could see the towering buildings of the school in the distance.

“I thought I was too much of a distraction?” You retorted, squeezing your fingers against his.

Minho laughed slightly, bringing his other hand up to adjust his bag strap on his shoulder. “Yeah, but I can make an exception today.”

☇

So here you sat, in the library next to a Minho Lee that insisted you take the seat by him unlike last time. You sat highlighting a booklet on how Guangzhou, China became so overpopulated since 1991 whilst Minho sat next to you, typing away on his laptop.

You didn’t notice the way his tapping on keys had stopped since five minutes ago and his body had slightly shifted towards yours. He knew he wasn’t going to get anything done while you were sitting next to him, it was inevitable.

He figured, now’s a better time than any. A better time than any to finally do it, to finally ask you out and kiss you like you’ve wanted to. He didn’t even register at this point that he was in a library when he took the highlighter out of your hand and placed the cap onto it before putting it on the desk in front of you.

You looked up at him, confused as to what the fuck he thought he was doing. That was when he brought his hands to your jaw and you knew. Holy shit, he was actually going to kiss y—.

God, fuck, every other word of expression that could possibly be used to describe the feeling of Minho leaning in and attaching his lips with yours. What the fuck? Since when was he actually good at this? What flavour lip balm was he even wearing? Did he care about how you only had papaw?

Too quickly was he pulling away, did you even kiss back properly? It was all a bit too much to handle for you for the 7 whole seconds he’d pressed his lips to yours. Your eyes fluttered open and you were sure you were blushing, it’s not like you had time to prepare yourself.

“I wanna be your boyfriend.”

Fuck, you had definitely not prepared yourself, you were an absolute mess and your fingers curled around the hands that were on your cheeks. You couldn’t help but smile, and that set Minho’s heartbeat at ease.

You nodded, “Okay, Mr Boyfriend.”

He smiled back at you, nerves no longer thrashing through him and heart pounding because of something entirely different now. It was official, god, his mum was gonna be so fucking happy.

“Really?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

“Hm,” you fauxed a look of contemplation. “If you let me kiss you again, then it’s a maybe.”

He laughed, looking down in disbelief before raising his head again and nodding, already leaning forward to make it easier for you.

“Hey, as nice as it is you’ve found a friend,” you both pulled apart, shocked at the loud voice and looking for its source. “There’s absolutely no kissing in the library, Minho.”

The librarian stood at a shelf nearby, raising her eyebrows at you both before walking off with some books in her hand.

“What a cockblock.” He grumbled, sitting back in his seat in disappointment.

Though, you made up for it. You kissed him on your way home, at the beach many times when feeding the penguins, up at the lighthouse where you remembered your first and even down at your front door before you could let him leave.

Minho liked it, having a friend. But he liked even more having someone to kiss and hold hands with, and someone that he just wanted constantly to give tender touches to. You liked it too, he could tell, and that made him glad.

No one really knows the boy that mans the lighthouse on your bay, no one except you. And you were never ever going to forget the storm that brought the two of you together. The storm that brought you Minho.

☇

(“You know, I used to watch you feed the penguins before we met.”

“I know, you’re terrible at hiding.”

“What the fuck? You knew I was practically a creep this whole time?”

“What? You mean you weren’t just watching the penguins?”

“Forget I said that.”)

☇

#skizmin masterlist #skzinc #ncknet #minho #lee minho #lee know #stray kids #skz #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #skz scenarios #skz fluff #skz imagines #minho imagines #minho fluff #minho scenarios #lee know fluff #lee know imagines #lee know scenarios #writing #woojin #chan #chris #changbin #hyunjin #jisung #felix #seungmin #jeongin

[savrenim]

Do you have any role-playing tips? Especially for a more ~serious~ character? Cause i want my character to bond with the rest of the party, but im not rly sure where to start, especially since ive established her as kind of closed off

OH WOW OKAY

super honored that you asked

gods lemme see, I have a lot to say and some of it might be contradictory because so much of improvising and character creation and motivation is character, so this is going to be stream-of-consciousness under the cut

things that you can do that are just you—get comfortable improvising things, DnD and roleplaying in general is improv, it’s all say “yes and” and “go with the flow”

—but also get comfortable saying “yes” to yourself and not second-guessing yourself

—ie if you say something or do something don’t second-guess it, let it have happened, let it be canon. and then from there, ask yourself why.

—seriously, the most interesting thing I have ever done and best way that I’ve ever built characters is I thought I had an idea who they were, and then they said or did something during a session that made me go “oh shit, why did they do that”, and it either connected to a thing in their backstory I didn’t realize or indicated that they had a stronger feeling about something than I realized and letting the thing that I’d done be canon that then I post went back and extrapolated from allowed the character to grow and mature and develop better than if I’d been wishy-washy or had stopped myself from doing the thing that came to mind in the moment because I was worried about whether or not it was “in-character” enough

—and you can use that to reverse-engineer a character that better fits the overall party dynamic

—for example, for the department campaign I’d completely accidentally created a character who was a bit of a prissy field librarian here for linguistics and to be the arcane consultant and had never seen a death before and believed strongly in all life was utterly irreplaceable and precious for a party that was way more classic DnD and way less character-driven and VERY murderous even though we’re the good guys on a classic “save the world from demons” quest just very chill about murdering moochs, and so slowly from interactions and reactions it turned out her upbringing was a more extreme high class controlling mother and her morals developed into a way more interesting “I am privileged and detached and am trying to say that I care about not killing but tbh as an elf who’s essentially immortal and the rest of you all die in 50 years anyways it is kind of weird to care about your lives and my family thinks I’m weird and really going through a phase for doing so and it’s hard to stick to that when you all seem chill with killing people so okay I guess we’re murdering people now, gotta stop the demons” and the more I leaned into that, the more interesting it became, because as she became a more powerful arcanist I started leaning into the “the more high level spells she cast the more she started power-tripping/the power affected her brain and the less she stuck to the morals she cared so much about at first that her friends didn’t” that, like. this has been a hella interesting, hella engaging character for me. if I had gone “Seraph Maewel has never seen anyone die before and she refuses to be a part of intelligent humanoid killing so we have to make sure we only knock people out and just kill the monsters and I’m going to throw up after every single fight that we accidentally do murder people” it would have been static and boring and sure, what I initially established, but it turns out what I initially established wasn’t best for the campaign and this was an interesting, in-character transition that happened naturally because I did things as I did them aligned with what I understood about the character and then thought about afterwards how it fit with everything I’d established before and what it implied that maybe was different than I thought

—also people change it’s okay and in fact VERY fun to do character growth arcs you don’t have to feel married to your initial conception of a character

—there’s another concept that’s a little bit tied? that is pretty much IC vs OOC choices, of, like, and this is my strong opinion because I’ve been a counselor who’s been in charge of making LARPs fun for little kids for years now? but basically, on a larger scale than the tiny individual interactions, it is your *job* to come up with IC excuses and still make genuine in character decisions that serve the party and that serve the narrative

—like, for example, a while back, I played a character who actively was planning to leave the party after a year. they hadn’t told the rest of the party they wanted to leave, because it was their business, but they were in a point in their life where absolutely nothing was going to convince them to stay with this group of people, *especially* the fact that they cared about them, mostly because they wanted to Prevent An Event That Had To Do With Their Backstory From Happening To Everyone. out of character, I knew that I couldn’t just Leave The Party, so I made sure the DM knew how my character felt, knew that I wasn’t *actually* going to leave and that my character might be getting uncomfortable or look like they were making plans to leave but that I trusted the DM to do the rest, and the way that it was resolved was my character really didn’t *want* to leave their new friends and just cut it too close when they thought they had more time and the Event Happened and after it happened there was no reason to leave. but I found IC excuses to keep choosing an OOC action that served the narrative way better than going “my character really wants to leave so guess I’m going to leave.”

—you honestly probably do things like that anyways? in terms of, like, there is a Plot Hook so you find an IC reason to care about it. but it’s a very useful skill to develop to look at a narrative, go “what serves this narrative best?”, and then once you answer that question go “so what reason does my character have to try to do something like that or as close to that as they can?”

—right now all of the above advice kind of sounds like “yooo change your character” and the answer is also, *don’t*. balancing meta stuff is a…meta thing? just make sure that you’re having fun, and that you’re playing the character that you want to play, and that you have Strong Feelings and act in ways that give you the Feels that you want and that you’re playing for you too. compromise is compromise all around you aren’t going to get anywhere if you’re the only person who gives any leeway then it’s not fun and easy to get bitter, roleplaying is collaborative and other people should work to reach out to you too and give you hooks

—biggest and maybe most important bit: your DM is your friend. esp if they’re trying to facilitate deeper roleplaying. tell them how yooo you want to try to get closer to the rest of the team, is there any sort of challenge that they can throw at you all that will facilitate teambuilding? a little bit of “we all saved each other’s lives” or “oh fuck we got stuck in this cave in together and have to work together in ways we haven’t to survive” or “oops we all have to be undercover and are relying on each other to keep up this act” or just any situation in a story or piece of fanfiction that you would see and go “aND NOW THEY ARE A FOUND FAMILY WHO CANNOT BE TORN APART”, well, let that happen to your group.

things that you can do immediately to have reasons to care about the party as a whole:

—if you can learn their backstories, do? group bonding happens with sharing of personal backstories, and, like, OOC, everyone wants to talk about their character and stuff. if you don’t like them, a good in character reason is maybe you’re paranoid and don’t trust them and want to do some goddamn background checks on the people that you’re working with. but once you know more things about them, you have so many more reasons that you can use to go “ah yup and here’s something my character would hella care about and maybe might be the start of a bond”

—as a closed off brooding character you still can have feelings that you are just the Dramatic Person In The Corner that you don’t show them but they’re there, that is everyone’s favorite character in tv shows as they wait for said character to Crack and admit that they have Emotions

—for example maybe pick another character in the party and oh wow you love them so much, they are your tiny son, you would never show it but nOpe they are yours now and nothing touches them

—pick another character that you absolutely hate and grumble about and glare at, except they are your asshole and nobody else outside of you is allowed to pick on them and if anyone threatens them you will murder that person

—Marian Daywrym, yet another DnD character of mine, has done both; three of the four other characters in the party are 16-ish year olds and Marian is a gruff 56 year old who oops has adopted three more children because tHEY ARE CHILDREN, and then there’s Djin, space rogue, her ex co-captain of a ship that broke up when they had a huge fight a decade ago and at this point the way that she interacts with Djin is mostly being incredibly passive-aggressive and mean to his face but pretty clearly would Die for him and if anyone else tries to be mean to him she is ready to Fight, and that is how my grumpy standoffish “I’m the medic and I’m here to do my fucking job and stay the fuck alive” space mom captain, who also has a policy of “don’t bond or poke into each other’s personal business no drama on this ship we all just want to scavenge in peace” ended up being So Emotionally Attached To Everyone

—but there’s actually another potentially interesting route to go, depending on what kind of Brooding, Closed Off character you are that isn’t “oops secretly now I love and would die for everyone”? which is basically…find someone in the party that you decide that your character maybe admires in some way? of, like, maybe they have an Ideal of they’re going to be a Hero Of Justice and you had that ideal as a kid and it only brought you suffering and pain and you never reached it and so fell off that path and that’s one of the reasons that you’re closed off and it’s Painful watching this person with such hope in their eyes try and you don’t know if you want them to succeed where you couldn’t because they deserve to succeed or if that’ll hurt more too, and that gives you reason to be emotionally invested in their storyline and find yourself taking them under your wing and also for everyone else to go “hey are you okay want to open up?” and for you to maybe feel vulnerable enough to talk about your backstory, looking at someone who reminds you of a less broken you. or not even ideals that you had, ones that are “wow are you really the sort of person that I wish I could have been?” or hey, maybe you’re the idealistic one, then is there anyone in the party that is essentially a “wow I resent you so much for starting from a similar point that I did and falling off the path and/or am fascinated because am I looking at what’s in my future, I need to figure out what makes you tick even though it’s like looking at a train wreck in slow motion of whether or not it’s going to happen to me”

—those are all the thing that come to mind to me right now but if you want me to Tell Me About Your Character And Your Party And Your Game I am always down to listen to people talk about their DnD characters (midterms season is coming up so I might be on and off of here but I swear if you ping me I won’t be ignoring you, just answering when I can)

#dungeons and dragons #roleplaying #advice

[blaperile]

Homestuck Epilogues - Meat - Page 19 (Epilogue 4 Page 2)

#Homestuck #The Homestuck Epilogues #Meat #Epilogue Four #Jade #Roxy #Calliope #Dirk